


Ran Off in the Night

by lulusonebluejacket (anomeganeyatsu)



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Not Human, Blood and Injury, Crossover, M/M, Mundane Lucas, Shadowhuter Eliott, Some of them anyway, this is to be expected considering Eliott kills demons for a living
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2019-11-13 22:00:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomeganeyatsu/pseuds/lulusonebluejacket
Summary: Lucas had always been different.Too different.The years had only sharpened his skill at concealing just how much.He does his best to avoid interacting withthemor letting people know he’s noticing things they can’t see. He has had years of practice with turning a blind-eye on extra appendages, inhuman eyes, and a flash of fangs. It’s easy now and he doesn’t even bat an eyelash anymore.But then, he sees a boy. A boy dressed in all black, standing in the corner of the common room. Andno onesees him except Lucas.Or: Lucas has the sight and Eliott is a Shadowhunter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I haven’t read the books in years (I remember finishing City of Bones up to City of Lost Souls in my third year of high school, that’s approximately 7 years ago) and the only ones I have read of the series is TMI and a bit of the Bane Chronicles. Although I have finished season one of Shadowhunters, so I might end up mixing the stuff from both.
> 
> I also have no concrete plans on what direction this story is going. I have a vague outline, but I’m still figuring it out. If you could tell, _yes_ this actually me shouting for help.
> 
> Lastly, there’s no clear schedule on when I’ll be updating. I’m a sporadic writer and on my last year of college—yay, thesis is gonna kill me!—so I’d like to apologize in advance.
> 
> I do hope you enjoy this! :)

The moment he felt lips on his neck, Lucas regretted everything. Putting up a front about his sexuality was slowly eating away at his soul. From its usual vibrance, he could feel it shriveling up into a husk. But he knew that wasn’t just the reason. Deep inside, he was entirely aware that his sexuality—something he has been shoving into the deep recesses of his mind—was only one which brought about this empty version of himself. 

There was his mother being confined in a clinic due to her worsening mental condition. Another was his father leaving them and not caring too much about his underaged son. Then, the rent that he could barely make and his dwindling food supply because said father couldn’t be assed enough send him money on time. (It’s one thing he’s secretly thankful about these parties. Getting food without becoming too suspicious.)

Questing hands unbutton his shirt, slipping inside and feeling his cold skin. A sudden reminder of what was presently happening. He tried getting into the kiss earlier. He really did. Chloe was pretty and looked sweet. She tasted like bitter alcohol with a hint of cherry from whatever coated her lips. They were soft, insistent and—wrong. _Just wrong._ Lucas had lost interest in the mere few seconds their lips had touched. There was no burning in his skin. No passion stirring in his gut. He was cold and empty and unfeeling. He _hated_ it. Hated that he can’t be like his friends who liked girls, who were attracted to them.

A shadow shifts from the corner of his eyes and Lucas sucked in a breath, closing them shut. _No. Not now. Please. Not here._ He hoped that he had been wrong. That he was just seeing things. He was drunk from the bottles of beers he had consumed and high from the weed Arthur had brought, which he came to realize wasn’t helpful for someone like him.

There was a knock on the door, followed by another, and another. He opened his eyes and caught Emma and Daphne opening the door. A female officer greeted them, talking about a noise complaint. It gave him the opportunity to finally put some space between him and Chloe. Detaching her lips and hands from his skin. He pushed her further away when the police officers stepped into the threshold. Lucas felt himself breathe. He looked at Chloe. Taking in her face, her wholeness. He felt nothing. No warm feelings, no fluttering heart. Just _nothing_.

He couldn’t stay here any longer. The packet of weed weighed heavily like a pile of rocks in his pockets. Without a word, he slipped past the brunette. An invisible force was pushing the crowd into the direction of the door. The police harbingers of the party’s untimely demise. He can’t join them. He’ll be stopped and the weed will get him in huge trouble. His eyes roamed Emma’s living room.

They stopped on a window. An _open_ window.

He didn’t take another second to think about it.

In a mad dash, he jumped through it, greeting the evening air. He didn’t notice the packet of weed slipping out of his pocket and falling on the floor. Right in the middle of Emma’s living room. There was only the night, the wind kissing his skin and the flight of escape.

 

* * *

 

 

The moon was full. It was the first time Lucas had noticed it that night.

He was lying on the ground. Eyes trained on the evening sky. The ever present city lights made it impossible to discern the multitude of stars that dotted the sky, but they were there. He could glimpse them. It’s mostly void, partially stars, and Lucas was forced to acknowledge them. Lying on the ground motionless did have its perks.

 

_There was a steady flow of velvet sliding down his neck and staining the material of his shirt._

 

A pre-existing fogginess clutched his mind, a dull ache in his body and a persistent voice screaming at him to get up and move. _GET OUT OF THERE!_ But Lucas didn’t want to. Why should he? He was perfectly fine lying here and staring into the void above him.

 

_A commotion was happening a few feet away from him. Harsh thuds, grunts of efforts and blades clashing against something equally hard and sharp._

 

He was entirely too taken by his new appreciation for the void that surrounded the very universe. There was nothing more important to do.

 

_A squelch, blade piercing through skin and bone. Then, a scream._

 

He breathed in the evening air. Or tried to. His lungs were screaming, protesting the expanding and contracting that was part of its natural movement. He could only take shallow breaths. Ones that barely touch the organs whose job it was to process them. The world was trembling. The void beginning to creep into his vision.

 

_“What do you think you’re doing?” Footsteps rushed towards Lucas where he lied prone and shivering._

_The figure dropped on one knee on the boy’s side. “He’s still breathing. We can’t just leave him here.”_

 

One of his maman’s angel appeared before him. Despite the darkness, Lucas couldn’t deny that the angel was—

 

_“Beautiful,” the boy mumbled so softly but enhanced senses picked it up. His eyes widened. Could the boy see him? Or was he referring to the night sky? It could just be coincidence._

_“Let’s just fire message a warlock. We’re not to associate with mundanes, Eliott,” the first voice interrupted Eliott’s musing and stood behind him. Eyes completely ignoring the bleeding boy on the ground._

 

The chiseled features, the hint of stormy-greys staring right into his own, the messy hair shining gold as light encapsulated him in a halo. He reached for Lucas, hand warm as it cupped the back of his head and lifted him with such care.

 

_“He would have lost too much blood before Rouge gets here. And after the last incident, do you think she’d be pleased to hear from us? You haven’t been exactly civil when you and Marius **asked** for assistance.” Eliott spat the word. He hadn’t been with them but he could have guessed what happened. His friends weren’t exactly the epitome of decency when it came to associating with people outside their kind. _

_“She’s a downworlder, Eliott. We couldn’t just—”_

_“I think you’ve talked enough, Lucille.” Her mouth clicked shut. There was something final in Eliott’s voice. An edge to it that Lucille didn’t want to challenge._

_In that whole exchange, Eliott had carefully maneuvered the boy so he was leaning on his chest. His hands had worked quickly, ripping the bottom of his shirt and wrapping the wound on the boy’s neck. It didn’t do much when it comes to healing, but it did staunch open wound. They didn’t know how long the rouge vampire had been feeding on him. They had taken the vamp by surprise in the middle of the act, which resulted in the ugly wound on the boy’s neck._

_He looked at the glazed blue eyes, the shallow breaths, the trembling body. Eliott took off his jacket and wrapped it around the boy. He hooked his arm under the boy’s knees and lifted him._

_He was light. Were mundane’s supposed to be this light?_

 

Lucas was in the angel’s arms. Was he dying? Was he already dead? Were they taking him to heaven? Probably not. Lucas didn’t deserve heaven. His maman’s words rang in his ears. _Liars will burn in the fires of hell_ , she had said and Lucas was a grade-A liar. He lied on a daily basis.

About his situation.

About his thoughts.

About himself.

Wherever his maman’s angel was taking him: It wasn’t heaven.

His head felt heavy. The fog had lifted for some time now, and all he could feel was the cold, the pain and the tiredness in his bones.

The angel whose arms he was in felt warm and pleasant. With the last dredges of consciousness slowly fading, Lucas buried himself deeper into the warmth.

For once, Lucas felt safe.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah. Finally, got to update! I would like to thank you all for leaving kudos and comments. I was very overwhelmed. Thank you so much. 
> 
> I have to admit I'm not too sure about this chapter, but I do hope you like it.

He woke up to the distant rumble of traffic and curtains rustling from the strong wind. He was lying on his side, curled up in a fetal position, comforter pressed close to his nose. His face shifted, creasing into a frown. The scent tickling his nose was slightly unfamiliar. There was a vague memory there, but try as he might, Lucas couldn’t grasp it. He groaned as he turned upright, hand moving to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Instead of skin, the teen felt soft fabric and this caused the frown to deepen.

He blinked his eyes open. The white cream ceiling of his room slowly swims into focus. He raised his arm and stared at the black sleeves covering it. It was long and went past his hand, hiding most of it, save for half his palm and his fingers. Well, that certainly explained why he didn’t feel the skin of his knuckles earlier.

It was obvious the top wasn’t his. Lucas rarely owned any clothes too big on him and this one certainly had him drowning in it. Which was already strange as it is. He also knew this wasn’t Yann’s because: 1) it didn’t smell like the detergent or fabric conditioner that Yann’s mom uses; and 2) he doesn’t remembering borrowing Yann’s clothes last night. _Hell_ , he didn’t remember going to Yann’s last night.

The thought of _last night_ had Lucas reaching to the side of his neck. He didn’t know what he had expected, but his fingertips meeting smooth skin? _Certainly_ wasn’t it. It was strange, to say the least, and confused the hell out of him. Lucas wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that. Staring at the ceiling, fingers lingering on the skin of his neck. Naively expecting that the next moments would somewhat change the unblemished flesh there.

He was startled out of his thoughts when a buzz cuts through the quiet atmosphere in his room. Several more beats passed before it dawned on him that the sound had come from his phone. With some effort, he pushed himself to sit up on his bed with a groan. His limbs were shaking and his chest was rattling from every expansion and contraction of his lungs. It was difficult to breathe and the lack of surprise from this was frankly beginning to worry him. He rubbed his eyes again. Thinking, maybe, a few extra seconds would help make sense of things. _Wishful thinking,_ he later comments when he remained unenlightened.

He sighed and reached for his phone on his desk instead.

He rubbed his eye and squinted at the screen. There was a message from his maman and another from Yann. The one from his maman got a tired huff out of him. Although at the thought of his maman, something niggled at the back of his head. Flashes of golden light, the notion of wings, and storm-grey eyes. He shook his head. _Probably a weird dream._ He tapped the back button and opened Yann’s message next. A frown slowly took over his face and had him immediately going through his jacket’s pockets. Before he could begin to search in earnest, the door to his room opened and Mika and Lisa invade his space.

 _Fuck it._ He’ll look later.

 

* * *

 

“Lucas? Are you alright?” Despite the small screen, Lucas could perfectly read the concern on Manon’s face. He must have zone out somehow. Thoughts drifting into the events of the previous evening.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry, I’m just still trying to wake up,” he laughed softly, hand ruffling his already messy hair.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

Lucas considered telling her the truth. That he rarely slept and if he did, four or five hours were the most he could get. Manon had offered that if he needed someone to talk to, she was there for him. She was kind and she cared about him, even if they hadn’t known each other that well.

“I—” He bit his lip at the last moment. Decided to keep the words to himself. He couldn’t burden her with that. She has already helped him. He couldn’t ask for more. “I did. Better than the basement floor,” he joked. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Tried to forget the dark confined space of the old flat’s basement. Of the thing that huddled in the corner and watched him as he slept. “ _Way better._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

When the call ended, Lucas found himself asking Mika if he noticed what time he came home last night.

Mika tapped a finger under his chin, affecting a thoughtful expression. “Can’t say for sure kitten, I didn’t hear you come in. Definitely early morning though since I came home around two and you weren’t in your room yet.” Lucas took note of the curious look he gave him. He had sensed that Mika wasn’t finished and he was right because a beat later, he adds, “That hoodie’s a little large on you, don’t you think?”

Lucas looked down at the top he was wearing. Took in the black article that covered half of his thighs. How roomy and comfy it felt. How it seemed to be enveloping him in a warm hug. He returned his eyes to Mika. He saw the slight smirk tugging on his lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’m going back to bed,” he scowled at his flatmate and pushed past him. “Don’t think of bothering me!” he threw over his shoulder. He knew it was going to fuel whatever thoughts had begun brewing in the man’s mind. It didn’t mean Lucas would just stand there and comply with being interrogated. He retreated to his room and planned on staying there as long as he could.

 

* * *

 

He slept in the same hoodie that night.

There was something about it that Lucas found comfort in. He couldn’t tell what exactly. It just made him think and feel safe. It was weird, yes, but it also felt nice. He didn’t give it too much thought. Especially when his face buried itself on the cuffs of the hoodie’s sleeves and breathed in it.

 

* * *

 

_“This will cost you quite the amount,” a woman said. She sounded both near and far but Lucas could barely summon any amount energy to confirm._

_“Charge it on the Institute. Please, just help him,” someone answered. This time it was male. The voice youthful, soft and mellifluous. There was a rustle and the fabric around Lucas’ neck loosened. Something warm replaced it and the boy flinched at the invasive touch. Slowly digging into his skin and moving through him, inside him._

_Lucas whimpered and buried his face on soft fabric. It smelled like blood and sweat and something more that he couldn’t name. Fingers squeezed his hand and began to trace soothing shapes on it._

_“You care about him,” curiosity bled into the woman’s voice. “You’ve always been a strange one.”_

_“I’m only doing my duty,” the male replied._

_“Your duty doesn’t require you to care about us.” A clink and a pop, “Let him drink this. This will help with the blood loss.”_

_A rough hand cupped Lucas’ face, turning it slightly. A thumb parted his lips and something was placed between them. Something awful was poured into his mouth and he almost coughed it out but the hand rubbing his throat made him swallow the damned thing. He was assaulted with a series of coughs and someone was rubbing his back gently._

_“We were tasked to protect the inhabitants of both worlds.” Lucas blinked his eyes open and met stormy-greys. His vision was still blurry, but those eyes stood out. They were staring right into Lucas. An unreadable expression reflected in them. “It’s hard not to care if you were meant to protect.” A thumb brushed against Lucas’ cheeks. His eyes fluttered close and he let out a long exhale. Bit by bit, he was sinking back into the dark._

_“Do you still want me to alter his memories?”_

 

* * *

 

Lucas’s eyes snapped open. His breath coming in short gasps echoed deafeningly in the silence of his room. His fingers clutched his sheets deathly tight, needing something to hold onto, to anchor him.

He had been dreaming. Dreaming of something important. His mind clambered to catch the wisps of his dream, any detail, any flash, but as the seconds ticked by the more it escaped him. It felt like that fox from the Greek myths. Laelaps always so close but the Teumessian fox will forever remain out of reach. A never-ending chase between the dog that could catch whatever prey and the fox that could never be caught.

He stayed like that until his breathing calmed and the dream was no more than a forgotten thought.

Sleep became an elusive companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions, comments? Please don't hesitate to leave them.
> 
> If you're shy, you can reach me in my tiny nook on [tumblr](http://lulusonebluejacket.tumblr.com/). If you also have prompts you would like me to write, you can send them there too. :))))
> 
> Bisous.


	3. Chapter 3

Monday dawned cloudy and just as windy as Sunday. Somewhere between 3 and 4, Lucas had dozed off. In his own humble opinion, that was better than nothing. Monday brought Madam Rigaux and Lucas could not afford face-planting on his desk from being sleep-deprived. It has only been three weeks since school started but he was already in her bad books. (Maybe he should have reconsidered sitting next to Arthur in that class.) Despite the insufficient sleep, he was also feeling better. It didn't hurt too much when he breathed nor did his body protest at movement. The events of Saturday night were still patchy at best―much to his chagrin. But a guy could hope, right?

He went through his morning ablutions with the same mindless tenacity Mondays afforded. He debated wearing the hoodie to school, but the prospect of fielding questions from his friends were already giving him mild anxiety. Lucas may be the master at lying, but even he had his limits. The best lies were the ones that held a kernel of truth in them. He couldn't just tell them he has no fucking idea where he got the hoodie. Or it didn't sit quite well that he's feeling good. As if there should be something wrong with him.

And perhaps there was. Lucas wasn't the type to get black out drunk. He was even careful to limit his weed intake because it messes with him. It was never good to mix too much alcohol and weed when Lucas was what he was. It was asking for trouble. I mean, look where it got him last Saturday. A new hoodie―albeit a really comfy one―and a spotty memory.

He stared at the hoodie in his hands before sighing and folding it up. He placed it gently at the foot of his bed, his fingers lingering on the soft black fabric. Lucas puffed his cheeks and blew out another breath. He seriously has got to put a stop to this fixation on the damned hoodie. He grabbed his bag and phone, and finally exited his room.

Mika looked up from his mug, only dressed in boxers and his half-opened, offensively bright yellow robe. “Good morning, kitten. You're up early today.”

“And you're much chipper from what should be humanly possible on a Monday morning,” he retorted. He opened a cupboard to get a mug and poured himself the much needed black nectar of the gods. He nearly moaned as it touched his tongue, but promptly held himself back. He could not afford Mika holding that over his head.

“What can I say?” Mika gestured to himself as a showman would to the next wonderful attraction. “I'm a ray of sunshine that people desperately need in their lives.”

“Uh-huh.” He ignored the tirade Mika was warming up to. Finishing his coffee in silence as he checked any new notifications on his phone. He liked Arthur and Yann's posts from the party last Saturday and caught up in their group chat. Arthur had messaged him to compare their homework, completely forgetting that they've been assigned different problem sets to answer. He typed another text to his dad, reminding him of the transfer. He was running low on food and the meal tickets in the cafeteria could only take him so far. Lastly, he sent a text to his maman, checking up on her and telling her he was alright and not to worry.

Though their relationship may be rocky at the moment, Lucas loved his maman. He put majority of the blame on his dad for what happened to their family. But at night, alone in his bed and only his thoughts for company, Lucas blamed himself for their divorce. Knew it was because of him. If he wasn't like this, if he had been normal, not worrying his maman, not stressing his dad―maybe, just maybe, his parents would have worked out. Maybe he would still have a family.

What's done is done now, and Lucas had to deal with the aftermath of it all.

“I'm off,” he declared as he drank the last drops of his coffee. He placed the mug in the sink. Mika had dish duty today and Lucas was taking full advantage of it. He was about to step out of the front door when he heard Mika call him.

He rolled his eyes and turned to face him. The sarcastic remark died at his throat as he took in the expression on Mika's face. It had the teen automatically straightening. The expression was the same one he had when he had offered Lucas to sleep in the basement. It's wasn't a good deal, but during that time it had been ideal, practically god-sent, in Lucas eyes. He understood that whatever Mika was going to say next, it was serious.

“Lucas, don't repeat what happened yesterday. I don't want you staying out that late again. Not without telling any of us.”

He didn't say he hadn't planned on doing it again. Nor was there any inclination in him to even repeat the act in the foreseeable future. Lucas only nodded. It was enough of an answer for Mika. With that, he left the flat.

 

* * *

 

 

Lucas might be imagining things. Or he might not be.

Being him, it was usually the latter.

He just had a knack for these things.

Still, with the lack of sleep these days, it might just be his mind playing tricks on him. It has happened before. Besides, it wasn’t like he was alone. He was walking in public. To the bus stop on his way to school.

The footsteps he could hear weren’t trailing after him.

Why would anyone be following him anyway?

 

* * *

 

 

It took him half a day, but it became clear; he wasn’t imaging things as he had thought.

He was being watched.

Lucas can’t say how he knew. He just did. He had developed a certain awareness when it came to it. He grew up being monitored. His maman always there to remind him what to do and what not to do. Always whispering how God was watching over him, that angels were there to guard him, that the devil remained a constant presence at his shoulder.

His maman’s words never reassured him. Not when he could see the things he could. Not when no one ever seems to believe him. Lucas had lived a childhood in a perpetual state of fright. Eyes watchful and senses keyed up to the tiniest of shifts in his surroundings. It’s a habit he was forced to develop because he could not afford a repeat of last time.

Last time left him with a scar on his ankle. Long stripes entwined around his foot and licked just below his calf.

He still had nightmares about it. He still didn’t know how he was alive.

Lucas did his best not to catch anyone’s attention. He tried being normal, ordinary, average. Someone possessing his _ability_ was better off being unnoticed. He didn’t want any trouble. As a kid, he could admit he already had his fair share. Lucas just wanted to be able to reach eighteen without dying.

Unfortunately, his efforts of remaining unnoticed failed spectacularly.

He could sense the gaze on him. The presence tailing him just out of his sight. Whoever it was, they were good. And Lucas understood that they would not reveal themselves unless they wanted to.

So, he let them be. Maybe they’ll grow tired of him. See that there was nothing interesting about him. That he was _mundane_.

He frowned at the word. He was often referred to as such whenever he came across one of _them_. Or stumbled upon a store that looked different from what it advertised. Their tones were always curious, a little intrigued— _you smell like one of them, but you have no marks_. This time though, Lucas felt the poison dripping from it. Like the word was dirt, unsavory.

He didn’t understand where it came from. Where he heard someone say the word like that. He shook his head to dislodge the thought.

A shadow shifted in his peripheral. Lucas ignored it.

He also ignored the grunt of disappointment.

 

* * *

 

 

Lucas stared at Imane in disbelief. Was this woman fucking serious?

The unwavering stare she leveled him and the waves of not-taking-any-of-your-bullshit-Lallemant coming from her had made him fidget and unconsciously shrink on himself. He had always found her scary, but facing her had only solidified how tough she really was.

“Okay, fine. We'll try to come,” he conceded.

Imane Bakhellal was certainly a force to be reckoned with.

 

* * *

 

 

His tail disappeared for a few days.

He only felt their gaze on certain parts of the day. Like on his way to and from school. In between his classes, and sometimes in the bustling cafeteria. There were also moments when Lucas would feel the urge to look out of his balcony. Hoping to catch a glimpse of something but always ending a second too late.

It made him wonder when his life became the mirror of Laelaps: Doomed to hunt the Teumessian fox for eternity.

He certainly wished Zeus wouldn't turn him to stone and make him into a fucking constellation.

 

* * *

 

 

**The Gang**

 

_Guys quick, come to the common room. There are girls and free drinks._

[16:45]

 

**Basile**

_Is Daphne there?_

[16:46]

 

**Arthur**

_No, Baz, she’s not._

_She didn’t give us invitations last Monday. It was just us collectively hallucinating that conversation._

[16:48]

 

**Yann**

_Yeah, Baz. It was all just our imagination._

[16:49]

 

**Basile**

_You guys are such assholes, you know that?_

[16:49]

 

_Hurry up guys!_

[16:50]

 

**Arthur**

_I'm at the stairs. Where the hell are you guys_?

[16:51]

 

**Yann**

_We’re on our way, Lulu._

[16:52]

 

Lucas closed the app. A smile played at the corner of his lips. The boys were definitely going to get him back for this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whuuut two chapters in one update? Can you believe it?
> 
> Actually, I had these in my drafts and I've been sick the past three days and instead of resting I decided to refine the drafts. So, here you go! 
> 
> Updates won't be as fast like this again. Unless, I'm having an off day then I'll be processing my emotions through fic like the well-fucntioning human I am. Sorry for rambling.

He got punched in the shoulder before he could even get a word in. Arthur and Yann looked betrayed, lips pursed as they took their seats. Basile looked to be the only one remotely thrilled to be here. He had been the only one who confirmed he would come that Monday afternoon—until they shot him down and made impromptu plans just to get out of it. 

Basile was nearly bouncing in his seat and Lucas had to place a hand on his knee to keep the boy still. He wondered if it had been a good thing to bring him here. Then again, Imane _had_ demanded that he bring _all_ of his friends. So, Lucas' hands were washed free from this disaster waiting to happen.

“Seriously, Lucas? You said there'd be drinks!” Yann whisper-scolded, aiming his best I-am-very-disappointed-in-you-young-man stare.

“And girls! Don't forget he said there would be girls,” Arthur supplied, leaning over Basile and patting Lucas’ knee so he could get a front-row seat of his friend's displeasure.

He rolled his eyes at the two. “Are you guys blind or what?” the superior tone in his voice was clear as day. He jerked his chin to the front. “Look right in front of you: four girls. And if you want drinks, there’s orange juice right over there.” He pointedly stared at the table where the cakes and juice were set up. He was careful to keep his lips pursed, maintaining the cool—if a little exasperated at his friends—façade.

Arthur opened his mouth, but promptly closed it. Lucas hadn't exactly lied. It was all semantics really. They should have cleared things up. If they had, they wouldn't have been beaten by a fucking technicality. This was on them. And Lucas could see Arthur come to the same conclusion.

“Okay, you won this round Lallemant,” Arthur squinted at Lucas. He knew the blonde will be keeping a close eye on him. Waiting and ready to pounce on him for his revenge.

Lucas raised a brow and shrugged. Still affecting the devil-may-care attitude. This got him another punch from Yann. “You owe us Lulu.”

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest in mock offense. “I just scored you free food and drinks. What the hell is wrong with you?” Arthur reached out and poked him on the stomach while Yann, being closer, aimed for his hair and ruffled it. His mask slowly slipped and Lucas snickered at playing his friends like a fiddle.

In all of this, Basile remained in his own world. He was utterly engrossed in shooting heart-eyes at Daphne that Lucas grimaced at how sickening it was.

“Okay boys, big news. I think she just winked at me.” He relayed excitedly rubbing his hand together and smiling like the goober he was.

Arthur, ever the helpful one, took it upon himself to dash Basile's dreams and bring him back to reality. “Nope, dude. Not all. She's just rubbing her eyes.”

Yann snickered beside him and Lucas could only shake his head, a little smile tugging at his lips. _Ah, Baz, the poor besotted bastard._

Lucas heard something _clunk_ and reflex demanded him to look and see what it was. He felt dread pool in his stomach and the smile he was sporting had dropped off from the face of the earth. He met Chloe's eyes and quickly looked away.

He could practically feel her stare boring into him. He should have expected this. She was at Emma's party. There was a high possibility that she would have come to an event organized by the same set of girls. Lucas sighed internally, _Well shit, there goes not seeing her again._

He wasn't known for being smart when it came to dealing with people. So, being the dumbass he often denied of being, Lucas had to check if Chloe was still actually staring at him. _And_ big mistake. There was a pleased smile painted on her lips, eyes bright and hopeful before she shoots him a wink.

He had hoped that none of the boys had seen it. But Arthur, since he was really out to get him, had been watching her and seen the whole exchange happen. “Oh fuck, now _that_ was a wink.”

“She's so into you dude.” Yann noted. “Did you two hook up on Saturday?”

The guys began to pepper him with questions. Questions that Lucas had no interesting in answering. The light feeling had completely evaporated, anxiety taking its place. It was at that moment where Lucas—not wanting to meet his friends’ eyes, trying to gather his wits in how to answer them—turned to the door and saw _him_.

The world had suddenly gone silent. He could hear nothing except for the beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his breathing. At the back of his head, a piano piece, one he had tried to recreate in the music room he had snuck into a few days ago, came to life.

Lucas watched him saunter into the room. Steps light with confidence, eyes sharp and guarded with a certain curiosity. There was a barely there smile on his lips as he surveyed the gathering of students. Lucas waited for him to take a seat.

He didn't.

Instead, the guy took a spot in the corner and stood there like a shadow—an apt description considering he was clad in black from head to toe. Lucas continued to stare at him. Caution thrown to the wind, the thought of getting caught staring intently at a _boy_ far from his primary concern.

There was something about him. Lucas couldn’t pinpoint what, but the guy just stood out in Lucas’ mind. The teen wondered who he was. If he was a hallucination or not. Lucas subtly checked if anyone was acknowledging his presence. Because, really, with that _face_ , people were just bound to do so.

Except, no one was looking at the guy. None of the girls at the front had their eyes straying to where the stranger stood. They were completely ignoring him. Or maybe, they just couldn't see him.

He glanced at him once again and felt himself stiffen as he met the stranger's eyes. A familiar set of stormy-grey eyes.

 

_“You're going to be okay. Just stay with me, come on.” A hand pressed carefully on his neck and Lucas grunted in pain. He could only see the blue sky being overtaken by storm clouds._

 

Lucas blinked and he was back in the common room. He _had_ seen them before. That glimpse of something more before it's ripped away from his grasp was telling. There was just no way he could forget them. In the light, the grey seemed more prominent, the blue left into the edges. Like a storm brewing in the distance. He wasn't sure how long that connection lasted. Only tethered in this world by that gaze. Just like in that dream. It only snapped when Yann nudged him and Lucas felt the noise rush back into his world.

“Huh? Y-yeah. You could say that.” Lucas tried to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Like there wasn’t a guy drilling holes on the back of his head with that piercing gaze, standing guard near the door. Like he hadn’t been staring at what could’ve been empty space to everyone else.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, Lucas, what do you mean 'you could say that'? We need deets dude!” Yann muttered with glee.

He swallowed and calmed his breathing, “Yeah. Okay, yes I hooked up with her.” Before any of the boys could express how proud they were of his achievement, Daphne had spoken and officially started the meeting. He almost shot her a grateful look but that would have been weird so he held back.

He stole another glance at the guy, and _yup, he’s still staring at me._

The meeting didn’t last long. Or it was more of a blur for him. He knew Daphne explained the purpose of the meeting and what the common room was all about, all the while shooting Basile down with every opportunity. It was hilarious and Lucas would be laughing himself silly, like Yann and Arthur. But he was hyper-aware of the guy that abandoned his post near the door and was currently checking the room. He moved with grace, avoiding brushing or bumping into anything so no one would be alerted of his presence. Save for Lucas, of course. The girls started handing them a survey and Lucas answered it with uncalled focus because if he didn’t, he would just keep watching the guy.

He tried not to react when he felt him stand right behind him. Reading the survey over his shoulder and humming contemplatively. And it was all too familiar. Too reminiscent of the past few days. He had known the moment he saw him that this was the presence that had been tailing him the whole week. But denial was Lucas' greatest companion, so he forcefully didn't reconcile the two things. Not until now.

He ignored him with all his might. He just can't afford breaking his cover. He had worked hard to hide this damned ability. He wasn't going to let this guy―gorgeous bastard or otherwise―ruin it for him. Besides, what was he going to say to his friends? _Hey fellas, you don't see him but I'm being stalked by this guy who happens to be just right behind us right now. Oh, and not to freak you out but there's a secret society that exists alongside ours except you guys probably can't see it._ Yeah, that will go down wonderfully.

“Guys what do I do?” Basile asked anxiously, jarring Lucas out of his musings.

“Write to her,” Lucas said without much thought, tapping the pink survey.

“Yeah, you can always write your number,” Yann added.

“Oh, and write your name. Put _Baz_ ,” Arthur interjected, motioning with his hand as if highlighting their friend's name. “ _My name is Baz,_ like that.”

“Oh, now that's a good one,” Yann praised with a laugh.

Lucas stayed quiet after that, finishing the survey in record time and handing it to Daphne along with the other guys' surveys. When he turned back to where he sat, the guy was gone.

It was at that point Lucas questioned himself. Did he really see someone? Had someone really been there? Or was it just a figment of his imagination? Driven by his desire to finally discover his stalker, for answers? Or simply a way to divert his attention from the discomfort of Chloe’s pursuit?

Will he ever really know?


	5. Chapter 5

On his walk to the bus stop, Lucas had resigned himself not to see the guy again. It was clear he had no plans of being caught. It was still strange why the guy showed up in the common room when he had been completely gone the whole day. Or why he let Lucas meet his eyes. Lucas was still unsure if the guy even _existed_. If he was even _real_. If he had really _seen_ him. Like he said, his tail had been completely silent the whole day. Lucas probably conjured him from say, _desperation_. 

His friends had also sensed his plummeting mood but made no comment. They didn’t even stop him when he told them he was heading home first, only giving pats, a side hug and another hair ruffle. Variations of “Take care, Lulu” following after him. He knew he had to tell them what was bothering him at some point. He just didn’t know how.

He should probably start out by coming out to them. The only thing stopping him was the gaping unknown that was their reactions. He knew they had no problem with it. He had seen the boys interact with Mika, and none of them had been aggressive. But _what if? What if_ they weren’t okay with Lucas? _What if_ it changed their friendship? _What if_ they didn’t want to be friends with him anymore? What if? _What if?_ **_What if?_**

And then, there was the thing with his ability. He wasn’t even sure he wants to tell the boys about it. Being, well, _gay_ already separated him from most people. Lucas didn’t want anything more to put a divide between him and his friends. Plus, he didn’t want to put that kind of burden on them. He would rather have them living oblivious about the things in the dark than live the rest of their lives always looking over their shoulders and cultivating an amount of distrust for the world.

Like right now for example. He was just walking to the fucking bus stop of all things and yet he kept checking if someone was following him. If he had to avoid anyone to keep himself from any trouble. _To be safe. And dammit_ , his tail for the past week had seriously made him more paranoid than ever. With a quiet frustrated huff, he stopped and stood in front of the shed and checked the schedule of the next bus.

As if the universe had heard his desperate plea, Lucas spots _the guy_ just right across him.

A seed of doubt planted itself into his mind. Should he approach him? Or should he continue to ignore him? He had done for the better part of the week. Except, what if he _poofs_ out of existence like well— like a ninja just when Lucas was so close? What if this was just a mirage? What if Lucas had been dreaming all this time?

With all these thoughts, Lucas came to one unchanging fact. He _needed_ answers. He needed to know why he had been following him; why he had been watching him; why he was so familiar. He probably had an idea why Lucas’ memory had been spotty about Saturday evening. And honestly, if the guy was going to keep on tailing him, Lucas deserved to at least know who he was. Dream or otherwise. _He_ was the only thing that made Lucas completely suspicious of his situation.

He took a deep breath and pursed his lips. _Okay_ , he was actually doing this. Lucas approached silently, steps determined and tentative at the same time, as if he still can’t believe this was happening. Which pretty much summed up the whole of it. It wasn’t like he approached guys all the time. Figments of his imaginations or not, Lucas was shit scared when it came to seizing an opportunity. Especially right after the Yann debacle. (Come to think of it, he always somehow manages to develop a slight crush on guys linked to Emma. _Fuck_ , he seriously has a problem.)

The guy remained unaware of Lucas. So, the brunette teen took this time to observe. He stood in front of the vending machine. His shoulders were hunched, fingers rubbing anxiously at his lips. His eyes stared at the machine with a look of deep contemplation—one more suitable for something philosophical rather than deciding what snack to choose. Then again, Lucas couldn’t blame him. The teen understood the great intricacies of choosing the right snack.

“Number 24 isn’t bad,” he heard himself suggest. Things happened too fast for Lucas to comprehend. One moment, he was staring at a broad back. The next thing he knew, he was facing the end of a blade. A weirdly glowy, _wickedly sharp_ blade.

“ _Shit_.” The guy’s eyes widened at the sight of him and Lucas tried not to move, fearing the blade would nick him. He flicked his wrist and the blade disappeared up into his sleeve. A movement so quick Lucas wondered if it even happened at all. A frown made an appearance on the guy’s face and Lucas can’t help but think how unfair it was that he still looked handsome. “You really can see me.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Lucas blurted. His muscles were still tense. Body keyed to run at the first sign of danger. He could see the strange marks peeking under the guy’s shirt and Lucas latched onto the dumb stereotype of tattoos-equals-trouble. Not one of his proudest moments he knew, but give him a break. He just had a blade pointed at his face literal seconds ago. He was allowed to lose a few decent brain cells.

“You’re a _mundane_.” There was no bite to it. No hidden disdain. Lucas still found himself reacting negatively.

“Are you calling me boring? You don’t even know me!” He scowled at the guy and a spike of annoyance rose within him when he saw the guy’s lips twitch, trying to hold back a smile.

“No, I mean. You’re _human_ ,” he explained, tilting his head and Lucas wanted to pull those stupid messy locks. “ _Normal_.” Like that made any more sense. Of course, Lucas was human. He just had this freaky ability that lets him see things other humans don’t. He was also getting tired of being referred to as _mundane_ like he should know what that meant when they threw the term at him. It wasn’t like the dictionary provided any helpful answers. It didn’t hold the nuances of this other world that he was sorely missing.

He noted how the guy’s eyes sharpened. Face becoming shuttered as he took a step closer to Lucas. It happened in such a short span of time that the teen couldn’t even react. Suddenly, there was barely any space between them. And this close, Lucas becomes aware of how tall the guy really was. It rankled that he had to strain his neck to meet those eyes. Lucas could feel his breath on his cheek as he looked down at him. Stormy-greys eyes staring deeply into his. Roaming all over his face and seemingly seeing right through him.

“Or are you?” His voice was soft, sounding more of an exhale. “You’re certainly pretty enough to be one of the _fae_.” Lucas could practically feel the way the blush crept up his cheeks. “Or maybe you’re a warlock? You could easily glamour your mark that way. Your eyes certainly can’t be this blue to simply be human.” A finger brushed his cheekbone with the gentlest of touches and Lucas can’t breathe. “She certainly could have lied to keep you safe.” He added as an afterthought.

 _This was real. This was fucking real_ , his mind screamed. He could actually _feel_ the touch. Feel his breath. _Smell_ him, _like the hoodie_ , a voice whispered. _He smells like the hoodie!_

“Are you actually flirting with me?” incredulity strained Lucas’ voice. His brain didn’t even try to comprehend the guy’s words. Too focused on the not so subtle compliments the guy was aiming at _him_. And the thought that _I’m not dreaming. Oh god. Seriously, what the fuck?_

A wide, bright smile broke across the expressionless face. Stormy-grey eyes brighten, the blue standing out more, and they dance with mirth. Lucas’ heart fluttered.

“Wouldn’t you want to know.” The guy took a step back, leaving the teen confused and bereft. “I have to go now Lucas. We’ve got a lot to talk about, but I can’t stay any longer. Don’t look for me, I’ll come find you.”

He uttered a surprised sound. “Oh, and here,” he reached for one of Lucas’ hand that held the strap of his bag in a death grip. He felt his hand loosening as the guy tucked something in it. He heard the crinkle of the wrapper before he could even look. His brows still rose all the same upon seeing the Crunchy Choco he had just been given him.

Before Lucas could say anything else, ask how the guy _knew_ his name, someone interrupts them. He turned and Chloe was right there, smiling at him. His stomach turned. Anxiety instantly pumping through his system.

“Hi!” she said cheerily. Lucas reciprocated the pleasantries automatically, albeit lacking the same amount of enthusiasm Chloe was exhibiting. “You left without saying goodbye.”

Lucas fetched for a response that wasn’t, _Kind of the plan since I don’t want to talk to you._ And shuffled his feet. He twisted his head a bit, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger, but he wasn’t there anymore. Lucas wasn’t even surprised. Disappointment stirred heavily in his chest but he stomped on it quickly.

Chloe was still looking at him expectantly; she waited patiently for an answer Lucas could not provide. Not without offending her. And like Superman swooping in to save a hapless victim from being pancake on the ground, the bus pulled in. “Uh, that’s my bus. Bye Chloe,” he said and ran like a bat out of hell.

He didn’t even turn around. He just rushed into the open doors of the bus. He walked to the back, stopped at a seat in the second to the last row and pressed himself against the window. He let out a breath as the bus door closed and it lurched to drive away. He was finally able to breathe. Alone with his thoughts, his mind easily drifted to familiar stormy-grey eyes, that handsome face and the sound of his name being uttered by that voice.

He stared at the snack in his hands. As if it would summon the guy through sheer force of will. And lo and behold, _it didn’t_. He blew out a disgruntled sigh and proceeded to unwrap the treat. He bit into it with undeserved violence. It was unfair really. The guy knew his name and Lucas still had no idea who he was. All Lucas knew was he carried a strange blade, wore black clothes, sported strange tattoo-like marks on his skin and had a habit of stalking a sixteen-year-old boy, flirt with them and give them their favorite snack before disappearing all together. _Again_.

At least Lucas finally knew this was real. That he really hadn’t been imagining him. (It wasn’t like Lucas was _that_ imaginative to come up with that face.)

_I’ll come find you._

Stupid Teumessian fox. Paradox be damned, he wasn’t going to just sit here and wait. He still needed answers. Lucas was going to catch himself a sneaky, smooth fucker if it’s the last thing he had to do.

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, Lucas realized he got on the wrong bus. 

Somewhere above, the stars were laughing at him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :'))))


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if I haven't been able to reply to some of the comments. You're all so kind and thank you so much. I'm gonna be honest, I still can't believe people are reading this. You guys are awesome. Love you mecs.
> 
> Hope you like this.
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. I'm also doing better now, if you guys were wondering lol

His brows were furrowed. Deep blue eyes staring intently at the device in his hand. A series of numbers stared back at Lucas and the teen contemplated if he should go ahead with it or not.

He had silently hoped that 24—it was either that or Crunchy Choco, and Lucas wasn’t going to call him the latter—would show up in his balcony. He had felt the guy watching him in his own room before. Lucas assumed it wouldn’t be far from being unlikely if he somehow finds him standing in a corner, still as a shadow and looking like a better, hotter version of Edward Cullen. Or for him to materialize like a ghost right in the middle of the disarray that happened to be Lucas’ room.

 _Fucking ninja,_ he muttered in his head.

(Lucas mused if he should have called him Stormshadow instead what with the eye color and how he had been shadowing him the past week. It also fit with the ninja thing.

 

He shook his head.

The jerk didn’t deserve a badass name, so 24 will just have to do.)

He hadn’t bothered covering up the disappointment when he discovered 24 wasn’t waiting in his room. Or that he wasn’t planning on making any more appearances for Lucas that night. He was sure. He hadn’t been able to sleep until four in the morning.

Which brought him to his current predicament.

Lucas wasn’t sure when 24 was going to come find him. He had resolved yesterday that he wasn’t going to sit around and wait. He figured the past hours had been ample time for the guy to come to Lucas and start explaining. There was no guarantee that 24 would even come back. If he really will tell Lucas anything.

It didn’t matter if Lucas had seen the promise in those eyes. When he _kept running away_ and leaving Lucas just like that, he couldn’t give him the barest amount of trust.

So _yes,_ Lucas was going to find him.

So two mugs of coffee, a blueberry muffin, half a plate of Carbonara, and several hours later, Lucas had pulled up one of his contacts on his screen. It was a number he never used. And yet, he never thought of deleting it. He was glad he hadn’t. You never really did know when things like these came in handy. He was still pondering on his next step when a notification pops up at the top of his phone.

He tapped it and froze. It was a friend request. A friend request from none other than Chloe. Thoughts of finding 24 came to a standstill. Blue eyes regarded the screen unseeingly. Lucas began to chew over how he should proceed. Does he accept? Or does he leave it there? It wasn’t like Chloe knew he saw the request. She was already following him on Instagram. She already _messaged_ him there and asked why he left in such a hurry. He nearly replied, _to escape from you!_ But he wasn’t that much of an asshole. His maman taught him otherwise and he was doing his damnest not to imitate his dad.

He wasn’t sure why Chloe was so bent on connecting with him. He hasn’t expressed any desire to pick up things between them from last Saturday. Lucas was fully on board letting things remain where they had left it, which was back in the party last Saturday, in the _past._ Did he miss something in the heterosexual’s guide to hooking-up? Was there a signal? A gesture? That flew completely over his head which told Chloe Lucas was interested in more?

Or maybe Lucas was reading too much into this? Maybe Chloe really does want to be just friends? That this friend request was simply the digital equivalent of extending a hand in friendship like it was meant to?

His finger hovered for a beat over the “accept” button. He blinked, looked at the request once again and finally tapped “accept” _._

“Lucas,” Mika’s voice interrupted him.

“Mika,” he returned with the same inflection.

It seemed he had to put his hunt on hold.

 

* * *

 

 

He texted his dad about the transfer again.

He received no reply.

 

* * *

 

24 was absent the whole Saturday. Not a peep. Or a shadow of him.

Sunday brought the same.

On his phone, a message was opened up.

**From Q**

_Wow. Good to hear you’re still alive mon loulou._

_And of course, the shop is always open for you! Come down whenever._

Lucas exited from the messaging app. He closed his eyes and breathed. Phone clasped in his hands and pressed against his forehead. He’ll find him. He’ll catch him. Lucas was going to make sure of it.

 

* * *

 

_It was dark._

_He was walking down a narrow street. There was a prickling feeling on the back of his neck that told him to stop and turn around._

_It was eerily quiet._

_No barking dogs. No yowling cats. Only the sole of his shoes scraping on the asphalt. The wind barely a whisper in his ear. The buzzing of the lampposts urging his feet to move faster. The distance between the lampposts veritable dark voids, and that didn’t sit well with him._

_Suddenly, there was another pair of footsteps. He stopped right at the lamppost, right into the light. Standing in the middle of a spotlight like an actor ready to deliver his heart-wrenching soliloquy. There was person, standing just right outside of the light’s radius. Their eyes glowing in the darkness._

_He wanted to run but his feet refused to budge. He was rooted to the floor. He didn’t understand why. The gaze held him in place, chains slithering around his body and binding him to the spot. He watched as the figure stepped into the light. It was a man. Maybe in their early twenties, sandy-blonde hair cropped short, handsome and dangerous. He was dressed in a coat jacket which topped his V-neck white shirt that exposed his collar bones and part of his chest, and he noted how pale he was. It couldn’t have been healthy. The man was smiling at him. The closer he got, the more he felt his grip on himself loosen._

_“Mind if I have a taste little one?” the man asked and he cupped his chin. His fingers were cold against his skin. He could only shiver. He tipped it up, exposing his neck. He saw the man’s nostrils flare as he breathed him in. He could scent something metallic in the air. Something familiar._

_“Please,” he heard himself plead breathlessly._

_“Perfect.” The hand on his chin migrated to the back of his head, fingers grasping at his hair. Another snaked around his waist and pressed him close to the man. His head was cocked to the side, the vulnerable column of his neck displayed. From his peripheral, he saw something glint in the light. “Bon appétit.”_

_He gasped and his body quaked, pleasure shooting down his spine. He tried scrambling free but bit by bit, he gets drunk in the feeling until the point he questions himself why he was even fighting this. Why he wants to get away. It was too good._ This is good. _He wants to stay like this forever._

_He closed his eyes._

* * *

 

 

Lucas woke up shivering in cold sweat. His sleep shirt clung to his body like a second skin and it disgusted him but he can’t move. Not yet. He’s curled up on his side, knees pushed up and touching his chest, hand clutching the side of his neck where he could feel fangs sink in, the ghost of lips and tongue cold and wet against the skin there. His heart jumping in his chest like a rabbit on caffeine.

It was dream. _Just a dream._ But it felt too real. Too fresh. His body knew it, it was crawling from the encounter and he couldn’t stop shaking. Tears stung his eyes and he didn’t want to close them, too afraid to be greeted by that face.

He had seen it before.

The night Mika had found him sitting on the streets, fucked out of his mind and crying. Too shaken from his maman’s latest episode, ashamed he couldn’t do anything for her, lonely because he couldn’t tell anyone about it. And he had seen him watching him, caught his eyes but quickly looked away. He didn’t pay him another glance. Dismissed him as one of the curious humans. Besides, Mika, who he still didn’t know then, had kneeled in front of him and was asking him if he was alright, if he needed him to call someone. Lucas was shaking his head, words too garbled from sobbing and he had forgotten about the man.

But the man hadn’t forgotten him.

He wondered if this has happened before. If it had happened more than one time. That maybe he had just forgotten about it. His mind burying it deep into the unconscious because he wasn’t ready to deal with it. Was this why he wore scarves with increasing frequency? Why he suddenly decided to let his hair grow out? Too afraid to expose his neck? For what? There weren’t any marks. No, evidence that it happened.

But it did, didn’t it?

It happened.

His dreams weren’t just dreams. This latest one. It really happened. He wouldn’t be reacting like this if it hadn’t.

Was this why 24 said they had a lot to talk about? Because Lucas’ has been what— vampire snack for gods-know-how-long and forgetting all about it?

And _gods,_ 24\. He wanted him so badly to be here right now. Despite how annoying it felt to have him tailing him around, Lucas had quickly grown used to his presence. Having him keeping an eye on Lucas, the teen had been glad for that. It made him feel safe even if he’ll never admit it to the jerk’s face.

24 wasn’t here right now. He hasn’t been in the past days. Although, he did have something close enough to him.

Lucas took a shuddering breath and uncurled from his position. He crawled to his desk, where a small box was perched right at the edge. He grabbed for it and took out the black hoodie. He was sweaty and disgusting. It was four in the morning and he knew he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep.

He took his towel and a clean pair of boxers. He stepped out of his room and quietly made his way to the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got _mon loulou_ from a web article. It said there that it doesn't actually mean anything (which I really find weird, because well, words just can't not have any meaning right?) but it's said to have derived form the French word _loup_ which means "wolf", so technically it's the diminutive of the word. That's what it says, you can read it [here](https://www.fluentu.com/blog/french/french-terms-of-endearment/).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is longer than I expected it to be. I didn't want to cut it so I'm leaving it as it is.

“Wow, who pissed in your coffee this morning and made you drink it?” Arthur’s voice interrupted him as he tried to get his binder from his locker.

Lucas took his eyes off from what he was doing to give his spectacled-friend the full view of his unimpressed look before returning his attention to his locker. There were many variations of it, dependent on the level of his shit-o-meter.

“Yikes, little Lulu’s quite in a mood today.” Arthur remarked to someone. He still sounded like he found it amusing, but there was also a smidgeon of concern there.

“You think?” Yann replied. He had arrived with Basile and the three of them exchanged fist bumps. They left the curly-haired teen hanging once again. It was a running joke in their group, none of them really planned it but they still found themselves agreeing to it. “The hoodie’s a dead-giveaway.”

“Yeah, Lucas, did you get the wrong size or something?” Basile asked, his face folded in a baffled expression. He never had seen Lucas in clothes not his size. He always dressed good and that’s saying something when Lucas had clothes that were the same thing only in several different colors (grey, blue, white and black). He was also the type who managed to look good in a pair of joggers for goodness sake. How _unfair_ was that?

Lucas wore 24’s hoodie to school today. He was still unsettled from the dream and this was the only thing that managed to calm him down. The scent of its owner has faded a bit, and Lucas has worn it long enough that his own smell had mixed with the hoodie. It was kind of nice. And he still hadn’t figured out why that was. 24 still hadn’t shown his ridiculously ~~beautiful~~ ~~gorgeous~~ _dumb_ face again.

Something Lucas was ambivalent about.

On one hand, he wished he was here so Lucas could get answers. On the other, he would rather not have the guy see him wearing _his_ hoodie to school. He seemed like the kind of guy who would feel incredibly proud of it. Lucas wasn’t going to feed his ego. No, siree.

“You could have gotten it swapped in the right size. Unless it was online and you lost the receipt so you couldn’t exchange it?” Basile was saying and Lucas resolved not to deign his question with an answer.

“Don’t you have a class to get to?” he said instead, slamming his locker shut and locking it quickly.

Arthur and Yann exchanged a glance but both shrugged as they had no answer for Lucas’ mood. They didn’t press him, for now. They already understood that the more they asked the more he would shy away and close off. And none of them wanted that.

“See you guys at lunch then, come on Basile.” Yann waved for the boy to come along. Basile still looked confused but followed after, throwing a “Later” to Lucas and Arthur.

“One of these days, you’re gonna tell us what’s bothering you Lulu.” Arthur draped his arm over Lucas’ shoulder and ruffled his hair. “But for now, did you read up on the topic today?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be our resident nerd?”

Arthur flicked his hand dismissively. “Psh. My glasses may be real but my eyes haven’t been damaged from studying.” He sounded oddly proud of that but Lucas refrained from pointing it out.

“Why aren’t you asking Alex? Isn’t she supposed to be your partner?”

“Like you’ve asked Imane.” The look on his face begged Lucas to tell him he was wrong. And Arthur knew Lucas’ answer to that.

“Hey, at least I know why I haven’t talked to my partner. She’s fucking scary,” he explained. There was no debating that. It was fact. A truth that became absolute to whoever has encountered Imane Bakhellal. “Compared to that, Alex’s more approachable.”

“She also forgets to do our assignments 50-percent of the time,” Arthur pointed out.

“Like you’re any better,” Lucas scoffed.

This time Arthur tugged at his hair and Lucas squawked, elbowing him in retaliation.

 

* * *

 

  

> **To Q:**
> 
> _You’re not entertaining clients on Wednesday are you?_
> 
>  
> 
> **From Q:**
> 
> _For you mon loulou, I’ll clear my schedule. Did you need something in particular? My services aren’t cheap you know! But I can always give you a discount ;)_
> 
>  
> 
> **To Q:**
> 
> _Even if you did give me a discount, I still can’t afford the services you provide. I’ll do manual labor like last time._
> 
>  
> 
> **From Q:**
> 
> _That’s always a pleasure._
> 
>  
> 
> **To Q:**
> 
> _Ugh. PLEASE. STOP. Don’t make it sound weird_.
> 
>  
> 
> **From Q:**
> 
> _Hey, not my fault your mind’s in the gutter._
> 
> _Gotta go, duty calls. See you mon petit chou!_
> 
> **To Q:**
> 
> _Yeah, yeah see—_

 

“Who are you texting?”

Lucas jumped in his seat, his phone almost flying from his hand if he hadn’t fumbled to catch it. His heart was beating a mile a minute in chest. He turned in his seat to look to his side and saw Imane standing beside him, smirking a bit.

“Fuck, Imane. Did you really have to scare me like that?” he glared at her.

The smirk disappeared and the impassive no-bullshit face slams back on. “Do you really have to be so grumpy all the time? It’s not my fault you’re a jumpy kitten.” She took her seat beside him and plopped her bag in front of her. Lucas almost groaned. Was Mika’s pet name for him spreading to the girls? They were Manon’s friends and Mika hung out with them once in a while. He wouldn’t put it past Mika to tell the girls just to tease him. “I was going to give you a gift,” she continued as he brought out her text book. “But I changed my mind.”

“A gift, really?” a crease formed on his forehead.

“Yeah, but I’m not giving it to you,” Imane repeated. “You had your chance.” Okay, Lucas would be stupid not to admit he was curious. What kind of gift would Imane even get him? But Imane was a mountain, strong and unmovable. So, when she said she won’t give it, she wasn’t going to give it.

He finished the message he had been typing and sent it. He slid his phone back into his bag and took out his book. The page they were going to be doing was already on the board. He flipped through it lazily to get to the page, his mind wandering to the common room. He still hadn’t figured out why 24 showed up in the common room of all places. Maybe— no, that would be _stupid_. But what if, right? What if the room had some special properties that could summon 24?

The thought was as ridiculous as it sounded but he at least had to venture on that idea. See if it pans out before dismissing it. He glanced at Imane. There was no harm in asking.

“Hey, Imane,” he started. Imane hummed to tell him she was listening. “Do you have more meetings planned for the common room?”

This made Imane pause in her reading and place her attention on Lucas. “Like you care about it now?”

“Well, no.” She cocked a brow at him. “I mean, it’s just a good idea, that’s all.”

Imane hummed and turned back to the textbook. “And to be honest, the first meeting wasn’t as bad as it seemed,” he added, returning his own attention to his own textbook and frowned at the exercise. _Shit, he may have read up on the wrong topic._

“There’s another meeting on Wednesday noon, if you want to join,” Imane told him.

He hasn’t sent Q what time he’ll be dropping by on Wednesday, so it’s safe to come. Lucas nodded. “Okay, I’ll be there.” He started skimming over the page to get a clue what they’ll be doing. He wasn’t terribly lost on the topic, so that was good.

“Okay, fine. You can get your gift,” Imane sighed and she flicked her eyes below their table.

Lucas turned his eyes down and saw that in Imane’s hand, there lies the packet of weed that he had lost in Emma’s party a week ago. His eyes widened, “Oh yes girl! You’re the boss!” he muttered excitedly.

“Hurry up, I’m not gonna sit like this for the whole class.”

The blue-eyed teen took his bag, then the weed in Imane’s hand but before he could slide it in the pockets, Madam Rigaux called for their attention.

“What are you two up to?”

Lucas was frozen. _Shit_. They were going to get caught. _He_ was going to get caught with weed in his hand. _Fuck_.

“Nothing,” Imane’s voice snapped him out and Lucas mimicked her words, turning to her with wide panicked eyes. Imane was acting as cool as a cucumber and Lucas really did admire her for being able to act as if Lucas wasn’t holding a packet of weed in his hand, and this won’t get them suspended, if not _expelled_.

“What are you hiding under the table?”

Everyone was looking at them. All ready to see the latest drama getting dished out in Madam Rigaux’s class.

“Nothing at all,” Imane replied, flipping through the textbook. He hadn’t even noticed that she had her hand tucked in her bag. “I was just looking for something in my bag.”

Madam Rigaux started walking towards them and Lucas tried to keep his cool. But he had never been good under pressure. He tried not to fidget in his seat, not to look at his _hand_ where he was clutching the packet of weed, and fucking _breathe, Lallemant. Keep it together!_ He subtly slid the packet of weed in one of the open pockets and zipped it back close.

“Imane, do you think I’m stupid? Let me see.” Madam Rigaux was right behind Lucas, her hand extended for Imane to give her whatever she was hiding.

Lucas turned to Imane, looking to see what she’ll do. And Imane. _Imane_ slammed something on the table. At first, it made no sense. What the hell did she just put on their table? But the split-second shock wore off and Lucas did a double-take because he knew what those are. He had seen it in the flat’s bathroom and in his old home. The guts of this girl. _Imane Bakhellal just slammed_ tampons _on our fucking table._

And Lucas was staring at Imane, blue-eyes screaming _what the fuck woman._ He nearly protested when Imane said _he_ bought them for her. No words come out though. He still can’t believe Imane just did _that_.

Once Mada Rigaux had backed off and Imane was done ranting how humiliated she was, as if she hadn’t just showed Madam Rigaux up like the boss she was. He glanced at Imane and met her dark eyes. Lucas tried to stop the smile breaking out on his face. But the smug look on Imane’s face was enough to dash his efforts. He hid his face behind his hand, lest Madam Rigaux sees them. A giggle bubbled out of his throat and Imane was snickering right next to him.

_Okay, Imane was definitely the boss._

 

* * *

 

  

Lucas’ stomach ached from laughter as Alexia had finished reading out one of the surveys in her hand.

“W-Wait, can I see that?” he asked wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. Alexia handed him the survey and he quickly glanced at the number. He didn’t even need to read all of it out. The scribble was familiar enough for him to know who this was. “Uh,” he coughed. “So, girls, this is Basile’s number.”

“No, seriously, what is up with him? How come he’s interested in me now?” Daphne asked frustrated. “Like the other day I caught him staring at me and actually drooling. I could feel his eyes on me from a 100 meters away,” she gesticulated and shuddered, “It was a nightmare.”

They couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Daphne’s face. Lucas was not even going to defend Baz. The guy has some problems expressing his feelings that tend to creep a girl out. Even with Yann, Arthur and his guidance, Baz still had a long way to go. He just hoped his friend would tone it down or else he’ll lose all his chances with Daphne.

They read a few more, getting a couple more laughs when they read the one from Alexia and Emma came back in with a scowl on her face.

“What’s going on?” Imane asked immediately noticing the change in girl’s mood.

“Alex is getting on my nerves. Apparently, I’ve been telling people we were going out,” she rolled her eyes and pocketed her phone.

_Whoops._ Maybe Lucas shouldn’t have mentioned anything when he bumped into Alex last Monday. It wasn’t his fault he read the atmosphere wrong! He and Emma looked pretty close in her IG stories and posts that Lucas assumed there was something going on between them. Then again, he thought wolves were monogamous and look where Alex was. A _fuckboy_ to the core.

He has half an ear open to the conversation. Eyes trained outside the courtyard. He might be friends with Alex and knew about his heritage but they still weren’t that close. Not the way he was close to the gang. He didn’t want to know too much about Emma’s relationship in fear of fucking it up like last time. They seem to be better these days and Emma was okay with him, but Lucas still hadn’t forgiven himself for what he did.

He was thinking of ways on how to make it up to Emma when he saw a familiar mop of unruly brown hair right through the window. “Okay, I gotta go girls. Here’s your form,” he handed the papers he had been holding to Alexia and he grabbed his bag, rushing out of the room. He didn’t even hear the girls saying bye to him.

He couldn’t have mistaken it. He knew he saw 24. He might not be sporting his usual black on black attire, exchanged for a brown jacket and an army green backpack of all things. But the gait, the hair—Lucas knew it as 24. He came out into the courtyard but before he could look around, the guys were right there.

They ask him if he was in the common room and he responded in the affirmative. Yann made a comment about him hanging out with the girls a lot and Basile butted in, asking if Daphne has said anything about him. Lucas was this close to telling him that he was creeping her out but figured he’ll have to discover it on his own, and so he just tells him “No”. He looked away from his friends, eyes darting all over the courtyard but 24— _24 was gone_. He wasn’t there anymore.

Lucas wanted to stomp his feet in frustration. He can’t believe he missed him again. This was getting absolutely ridiculous! One moment he was there and the next he’s not. Stupid Teumessian fox analogy, why did he have to compare him to that damned fox?

Basile is still speaking but Lucas wasn’t paying any attention anymore. Arthur was telling him something but their words were all registering as gibberish to him. He was too hung up on the thought of 24 being here just a second ago and disappearing altogether again. He was still looking around, hoping to maybe somehow catch a tell-tale sign of him. Maybe he missed something? Maybe 24 was just teasing him? He had done it back in the bus stop, smooth fucker that he was. He might be doing it again now.

But then he heard _that_ voice, and Lucas bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything offensive.

Chloe was there and this time accompanied by a friend. He can’t remember her name but he did remember Basile helping her out when she was puking her guts out in Emma’s kitchen sink.

“I’m fine,” he told her, voice devoid of any interest.

It wasn’t fazing her. She was still smiling. “Are you doing anything this Friday night? We were planning a party in Maria’s house. It’s nothing big, just an intimate gathering.” She was acting cool, like this was nothing big. Like this was totally normal. She was just asking a guy she made out with in a party two weeks ago that hasn’t responded to any of her messages.

_Fuck,_ did he make a mistake accepting her friend request?

Should Lucas have not done that?

He wasn’t stupid or blind. He could read it as clear as day in her eyes that she wanted him to say yes, to accept the invitation. Then her eyes darted to his three dumbass friends behind him and said, “You guys could come too, obviously.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry but it’s really bad timing. I have something scheduled for Friday—” he could already see Chloe’s smile faltering and the look on her friend’s face was as close to _the fuck_ _oh shit no_ he has ever seen as she looked from Lucas to Chloe.

But Arthur, the great interjector, just put his hand on Lucas’ shoulder pulling him to the side and inserting himself, literally, into the conversation. “Okay. So no, no, no. We don’t have anything on Friday.” Lucas slowly turned to glare daggers at Arthur to _shut up_ , _Turturo_. Who said he was talking about _them_ having plans?  It was just _him!_   _Him, Lucas, no one else!_ They could go to Chloe’s party for all he cared! Don’t drag him into this!

Arthur was displaying an incredible amount of imperviousness to his death glare. He was almost impressed. _Almost._ “We would love to come and we’re bringing booze.”

Chloe was already smiling again, spirits lifted from the acceptance of the invitation. “Ok, cool. We’ll send you the address. See you on Friday!”

Lucas gave her one of his fakest smiles that everyone else thought was real, “Cool.”

Their gaze followed the two girls as they left. When they were out of ear shot, Yann turned to Lucas. He looked a bit done with Lucas. “Come on, Lucas. What’s your problem?”

“What are you talking about?” he said. He felt tired all of a sudden. He wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore.

“I don’t know. Do you want us to stay between guys for the rest of our lives?”

“Lucas, you never say no to an ‘intimate gathering’ with a girl,” Basile added in. “Never!” He wanted to tell him that if he didn’t stop speaking like that he should definitely say goodbye to his chances with Daphne.

“Guys, Chloe and I saw each other a total of _three_ times, four if you can’t this one, and she has been talking me ever since. It’s _stressing_ me out.”

Basile threw up his hands like he couldn’t get why Lucas didn’t like that. Like getting stalked by a girl was the best thing that could ever happen in his life. He wanted to punch him so badly right now.

“Wait, wait.” Arthur slid in and pushed Basile to the side. “I don’t understand what’s going on. You’re my bro, but what’s going on in your head? She’s into you, dude!”

The words _Are any of you even hearing what am I’m saying?!_ were at the tip of his tongue, jumping to be screamed. He didn’t though. He bit the inside of his cheek and tasted blood. He held the words in. They weren’t listening to him. They were just letting his words pass over their heads. What use was it to clear it up? They weren’t hearing him.

So, he kept quiet and looked away. He swallowed the words pooling in his mouth, focused on the metallic taste flooding his mouth.

His phone rang and he had never been more thankful to have an excuse to get away from them.

He just couldn’t deal with them right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the dialogues were taken directly, if not reconstructed, from _Episode 2: La curiosité._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello mecs! How are we this fine Samedi ei? Vendredi ruined me but Samedi sure as hell healed me. I still have so many feels about it and I'm pretty much still a sobbing mess.
> 
> So, I'm going to be honest and I'm not satisfied with this chapter. It's the best I could do though and I hope you like it.

 

The shop was a quaint little place a few blocks from their building. It was located in a busy street but it’s nestled within a corner and blended too well with the other shops. You would hardly even notice it was there. It was the kind of shop you would miss entirely unless you weren’t actively searching for it. The type that only shows up when you’re in need of it.

Lucas remembered coming upon it accidentally. How he stood in the middle of the street, wishing he could find a place he could hide in a bit to calm his nerves. And suddenly he saw it, right there across him. This hole-in-the-wall shop with its obscured glass display, with tiny knick-knacks and hanging plants. The stylistic script advertising it as QS and nothing more.

He felt compelled to approach it. He hadn’t even noticed he was pushing through the door until he was facing a dimly lit interior. The bell was still tinkling behind him, alerting the owner of a potential customer. He didn’t know whether it was an apothecary, a bookstore, an antique shop or all of it at once. There were shelves upon shelves of varying things, all mixed it one place and it should have clashed but it didn’t. The chaos exhibited a certain harmony Lucas wouldn’t have believed possible if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

It has been months from what had been his first and only visit. (Until now, that is.) He thought that the owner would have redecorated by now, or resorted the shelves. But things look to be the same as the last time he had been here—save for the new additions or lack of some.

“That better not be you Dorian! I don’t care what you say, I’m keeping the grimoire!” a voice boomed from the back of the shop, echoing loudly in the whole room. He noticed how some items quivered in their spots, shifting to tuck themselves further, as if fearing for their lives. Lucas was used to strange things but he will never get used to that.

Claws clicked against the wooden floors and the teen twisted in his spot to find a tiny animal with large ears and a small slightly pointed snout walking towards him. The top of its coat was a soft orange and the rest of it was a cream-colored white. Its red-ruby eyes stared at him intently and like the first time, it unnerved him.

“Hey, Fynn,” he greeted the fennec fox. Fynn gave no response and continued advancing on him. Lucas kept himself still. He let the fox circle him, sniffing around his shoes and pants. He waited patiently until Fynn was satisfied in his scenting. Once he was, the little fox pounced on him without any warning. It didn’t surprise the teen as much. Lucas had been quite ready to catch him. He gave the little fella a scratch behind one of his large ears. For such a tiny thing, Fynn’s purr rivaled that of a car engine.

“Someone definitely missed you.” Lucas looked up from his petting and saw a woman standing at the entrance to the backroom, watching them with a smirk. There was a certain agelessness to her. And no matter what, Lucas would always feel like a child in front of her.

The first time he met Quellen Squall, Lucas had wanted to ask if she was real. At first glance, she looked human. With short ebony hair, sharp cheekbones, straight thin nose, plump lips and the shape of her dark eyes spoke of East Asian descent. She was wearing a bright red coat and pants and a silver mesh shirt, and combat boots. The only make-up she wore was the black eye-liner that curled into a winged-tip. She possessed one of those androgynous faces. She was beautiful and handsome, and Lucas felt himself flush when he realized he was staring.

But then he blinked. And he saw the way some parts of her skin shimmered, like dappled sunlight, and what he thought had been fin-like accessories on her ears were actually part of them. Lucas would have been scared. He would have run out of there. But Quell looked at him with such kind eyes and a soft smile. Lucas had decided to stay.

“So, what brings you to my humble shop? You weren’t pretty forthcoming in your messages.” Quellen’s words nudged him out of his trip down memory lane. Lucas blinked as she took her spot behind the counter. “Also, I can’t believe it took you months to actually come back! Was the tea that bad?”

“No, no, it was alright. Just… stuff happened. And it wasn’t like I was in need of anything.” Lucas shrugged as he walked up to Quell and deposited little Fynn on the counter. The fox was satisfied with the petting and decided he wanted off.

“Not even for the pleasure of our company? You wound us, _mon loulou_.” She swooned dramatically and Lucas could only watch, expression torn between amusement and confusion.

“Why would you want a _mundane_ hanging out at your shop?” There must have been something in his voice. A catch. An inflection. An emphasis. He didn’t know. But it was there. Q’s whole face had just shifted along with the atmosphere in the shop. She straightened and looked at him. It made Lucas fidget with the hems of his sleeves. He felt like a specimen pinned on a slide, scrutinized under the lens of the microscope.

“I don’t tolerate that kind of talk in my shop, little one. And you’re not exactly one to talk, _considering._ ” She left the statement hanging in the air.

“What does that even mean?” he asked flummoxed. Quell just gave him a look. One that told him he was on his own there, that he should know what Quell was talking about, that he couldn’t be that stupid not to have known. But Lucas really didn’t.

“Your shop isn’t easy to find when I’m actually, you know, _looking_ for it,” he said instead. If Quell wasn’t going to speak more on the matter, he’ll leave it at that.

“Maybe I should reconsider that layer of the wards,” Quell muttered to herself, frowning at something in the air. She waved her hand and a wisp of magenta trailed after it. She nodded, pleased with whatever she had just done and turned to Lucas. “Great, now you can visit anytime. Fynn’s grown rather attached to you. You have no idea how unbearable he was the past month.”

“Uh…what exactly happened?” he titled his head to the side in query.

“I adjusted the wards so you can come and visit whenever. Play with this little monster,” she patted Fynn’s head, whose ears flicked irritably. Lucas wondered if he should warn Quell to be extra careful that night seeing as Fynn positively vibrated with the intent to murder. “Just you though,” Quell continued oblivious to the furry quadruped plotting against her, “so if you have friends you want to tag along, better tell me first. Also, this way it’ll be easier for you to perform your end of the bargain.”

Remembering what he had come here for, Lucas shoved thoughts of Fynn and his revenge aside. He leaned against the counter, ready to transact with the woman. “Okay, I need information.”

Quell looked impressed that he had gone straight to the point. “Information.” She hummed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Her dark eyes regarded Lucas with curiosity, “What information are we talking about?” The woman snapped her fingers and a tray laden with a teapot, two cups and a plate of biscuits appeared between them.

“A name, if you could. Or possibly places I could find him.” A stool had materialized behind him and prodded him to take a seat. He almost swatted it away. Hackles rising from being harassed by furniture. It was persistent and Lucas had no choice but to concede.

Quell smiled over the lip of her cup, breathing in Jasmine. “Well, who are you looking for _mon loulou_? Any particular specie? Is it a child of the Night? The Moon? Of Lilith? A Fey even?”

Lucas rolled his eyes. The terms Quell had thrown at him rang vaguely familiar. _You’re certainly pretty enough to be one of the_ fey. He willed the blush not to show on his face. He gulped and forced himself back into the present.

“You know half of what you said doesn’t make sense to me, right? Like _at_ _all_ ,” he raised his brow and his hand began to gesticulate wildly. “I barely understand what this other world is.”

“And whose fault do you think that is?”

“It’s not like I want to learn more about your world,” Lucas groused, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew he was acting like a petulant child. But Quell was telling him in not so many ways that not knowing how things work in her world was Lucas’ fault. Which, okay, was true but he was putting in efforts not to become a part of it. “I’d rather be as clueless as possible to avoid trouble and you’re not _all_ the sharing-information-for-free type.”

“Point taken. Alright, well, give me a description of this person then.” She motioned for Lucas to go on.

He almost blurted out the stupidest thing but managed to stop himself. The descriptors _drop dead gorgeous with the prettiest eyes and infuriating smirk_ weren’t going to help him. Quell needed identifying marks, things that made whoever Lucas was searching for _distinct_. He reached for the cup of tea Fynn was nosing towards him as he thought of where to begin. One that wouldn’t make him sound like he was _interested_ in the guy in _that_ way. (He was though. Like a _teeny-tiny_ bit.)

He took a sip of his tea, mulling over his words. It was best to go with the easiest then. He lifted his eyes to meet Quell’s, “He wears a lot of black,” he started off.  “I thought it was a fashion statement at first, but it seemed like it’s because it blended with the shadows. He carries this weird, glowy blade and his skin has these strange tattoo-like marks.”

_He also kind of flirted with me, and gave me my favorite snack before disappearing on me, but this is after he stalked me for the whole week._

_I also have his hoodie._

Quell choked on her tea.

If it had been someone else, Lucas would be laughing in stitches right now. But this was Quell. He’d rather not piss her off. So, the teen said, “Shit, Quellen, what the hell. Are you alright?” He coughed to dislodge the mirth trapped in his throat. The brunette scrambled from his seat to help her, but she waved him off.

Lucas wondered if she happened to catch his thoughts. He hoped to whoever she hadn’t.

Fynn was unbothered by all of this. He just sat on the counter top, chewing on a biscuit, minding his own business, and just soaking it in. Quell snapped her fingers and a box of Kleenex appeared. Lucas grabbed several sheets and handed them to her. She accepted them generously. She was still coughing as she wiped the dribble of tea on her chin and the corner of her lips. Then dabbed at the tears on her eyes.

Recovered from her ordeal, she turned to Lucas with wide eyes. Or as wide as they could go anyway. Her face spoke volumes of incredulity. Wrestling with the knowledge of what Lucas was asking of her. Trying to come to terms that the boy was looking for _this_ particular person. “ _Lucas_ ,” and hearing his name out of Quell for the first time that day, it clued in the teen that this had just gotten serious. “Lucas, why are you looking for a _Shadowhunter_?”

_A shadow-what now?_

 

Lucas stared at Quell, waiting for her to say something more. When she didn’t and only continued to look back at him, the teen tugged at the collar of his shirt awkwardly. He cleared his throat and scratched his cheek. “I don’t want to sound stupid,” too late, he already did. “But what the fuck is a _Shadowhunter_? Do they like, literally hunt shadows?”

Let it be said that some days he, Lucas Lallemant, _may_ not be the brightest crayon in the box.

The way Quell’s brows slowly rose had the boy immediately protesting, “It’s a legitimate question! Don’t look at me like that!”

But the words have passed his mouth and his image was forever tarnished in the eyes of Quellen Squall. The prospect of smacking him right upside the head was looking quite tempting to her. “No,” she finally answered. “The job description doesn’t quite live up to the job title.” The blush he had been willing away earlier was winning the battle. He was glad that Quell wasn’t mentioning his ill-timed impersonation of a lobster.

“Shadowhunters. In simpler terms, they’re like the police of the Downworld. They keep things in order, as much as they can anyway. Usually they step in when mundanes get involved, when they get hurt. They used to stay out of other Downworlders’ business, but with the new Accords, a council’s been set up to hear cases when factions are disputing. It’s messy _and_ _you don’t need to know this._ ” She had probably seen the lost look overtaking Lucas’ face and took pity on him. “The point is,” she sighed, rubbing her temple gently, “Shadowhunters hunt demons. They protect mundanes and the Downworld in general. Keep the mundanes as oblivious about the existence of the Downworld.” Her eyes met his once again. “So, why are you looking for one?”

Lucas knew there was no point in lying to her. He may have been well-versed in the art of subterfuge, but Quell could probably whiff out any lie he would give. She won’t push him when he omits any information. She was simply like that. But it didn’t mean she would simply drop it. In the short time he had known her, that much had been certain to Lucas.

He drummed his fingers on the counter top. A 1-4-2-3 pattern he did as a child when he started playing the piano. He glanced at Quell. She was waiting for his answer. He wasn’t sure how much he could tell her. Quell knew something about him that he didn’t. Her earlier statement about him made that abundantly clear. He didn’t know why she couldn’t just tell him. But he guessed the universe didn’t function like that. It didn’t just provide answers that easily. If that had been the case, there would be less trouble in the world. Lucas also understood that in this world—this _Downworld_ that Quell spoke of—you couldn’t trust people fully. Quell made no indication that Lucas could trust her wholly but she didn’t give him any reasons to distrust her either. He still has no idea why Quell was helping him in the first place. The woman did things _for a price._ And getting off with simple manual labor like last time, it sounded too good to be true.

She simply can’t be _fond_ of him to be granting him these favors. Still, Lucas would take what he could get. She may be hiding something, but the day he met her she had been nothing but helpful to him.

“The guy’s been following me the past week,” he told her at last. “He said not to find him since he’ll come find me. Except he hasn’t exactly shown up again? He just—” he made a _poof_ sound as his hand demonstrated the action, “—so I figured fuck it. I’m gonna go look for him.”

Quell gave him a look that said she was impressed of his initiative, but also spoke of how stupid she found that decision had been. She didn’t remark about it though. Instead, she frowned and asked, “Why was he following you?”

“That’s the thing I wanted to know too.” He scowled as he grabbed a cookie from the plate. He bit into it with ferocity, raining crumbs on the surface of the counter and on himself. “He wasn’t the most talkative about that.”

“Don’t take it out on the cookie, kid,” Quell chided him. With a wave of a hand, the crumbs that littered the counter vanished. “I can’t tell you where the Institute is. It’s like their base of operations,” she explained before Lucas could voice his question. “I’ll get in trouble for divulging that information, even if you do have the Sight. Shadowhunters aren’t quite fond of mundanes and us downworlders.” A rueful smile made its way on her face before she shook her head. She flicked her wrist and between her fingers, a card was pinned.

Quell offered it to him and Lucas took it carefully. It was a nondescript black card. On one surface it was blank, but when he flipped it over, there he found an elegant script written in silver ink. It was Quell’s full name.

“There’s a club called the _Sans Jour_ , show them this and they’ll let you in. It’s a crowd favorite—mundanes, downworlders, even Shadowhunters come there.” She took a cookie for herself and bit into it more sedately than Lucas had. “I can’t be certain if you’ll find him there, but it’s worth a try.” She looked directly into his eyes. There was a fire there and Lucas found himself straightening in response. “I want you to be careful. Most downworlders leave mundanes well enough alone but there are still some who want to play. I would rather you go with someone than do this on your own, except I know you won’t endanger any of your friends. If something happens, burn the card. I’ll come get you.”

“Why not just come with me?” He asked as he studied the card before pocketing it.

“ _Mon petit chou,_ ” Quell said with exasperated fondness. _“_ I may not be the High Warlock of Paris, but I have other obligations. Even if I wanted to, I simply couldn’t.”

He wasn’t sure what that title meant. It sounded important and Quell really did look like an important person. She held herself with confidence and an air of authority. Even if the title didn’t belong to her, Lucas could imagine her owning it. But he did understand what Quell was saying: She was a busy person. He had already taken enough of her time. He also realized that she would charge him extra if she came with him to that club. He can’t afford racking up more favors from her.

“You never did describe what this shadowhunter looked like,” she sipped her tea. This time it smelled like strawberries. When she changed it, Lucas would forever wonder.

“He’s—” he coughed, taking a delicate sip from his own cup. It was still warm. It was also the right temperature that Lucas liked. _Magic,_ his mind whispered. “—tall. Messy hair. Has these really pretty _unique_ eyes.” _Nice save Lallemant, smooth, real smooth._

Quell was leveling him with this curious stare. Like she was trying to pick him apart. She might as well have been.

Lucas tried to ignore it. He chose to finish his tea and another cookie. His hand itched to pet something to calm himself. Fynn had taken to napping near the register and Lucas didn’t want to disturb him.

All of a sudden, Quell made a surprised sound and the next thing Lucas knew, she had put down her cup of tea, and was bent over the counter, clutching her stomach as she shook from the force of her own laughter. Lucas just watched her. Worried and a little annoyed because it felt like whatever had her losing it, must have something to do with him. She finally lifted her head and looked at him again. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, laughs tapering off into quiet huffs of amusement.

“You actually have a crush on this guy, huh?”

The heat that climbed up Lucas neck and stole through his cheeks was so severe he worried he might actually be running a fever. “I— I do not!” he denied. It made him sound guiltier and Quell was definitely of the same opinion. The way her eyes were sparkling, she didn’t believe him at all.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, _mon loulou_ ,” she sing-songed.

“I really don’t!” His words fell on deaf ears. Quell still chuckled and the blush wasn’t going away either.

_Fucking idiot shadowhunter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you caught it, _Sans Jour_ is a reference to Sense8. I'm a dumbass who can't name clubs because I've never been to one lmao.
> 
> **Edit:** I added a cover that you can check out in the first chapter. Or you can see it [here.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/33a2663b9c956ca2932eb8a2c2bc96b2/tumblr_por8iqWx5M1tw6z7f_500.png) :)))


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me :3

_This was not part of the plan._

He ran and took a turn in the next street. He could hear claws scraping on the pavement, the scuttle of legs and the inhuman snarl of that— _ _that__   _ _thing.__ He cursed when he raced into a dead-end. He was gasping from his sprint. Fortissimo marked the very music sheet of his heartbeat, crescendoing into deafening thuds. His head whipped around as he looked for any escape routes. But none.

He was trapped here.

He turned around and faced the monster.

_This was seriously not part of the plan._

__

***

 

Lucas stared at his phone, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. His friends won’t let him hear the end of this. He was already anxious at the thought of what Monday will bring. Much to Lucas’ guilt, bailing out on them tonight had never __not__  been an option. The previous Saturday morning his decision had been firm. There was a need for answers and he wasn’t going to let anything stop him from getting them.

He could simply tell them that he couldn’t come or wouldn’t be coming. That he really wasn’t up for an “intimate gathering” with a girl that’s stressing him out. That he already had something planned that night, something he could not afford to reschedule. He didn’t want to use his maman as an excuse. He could barely visit her as it is. It was, at the core of it, unfair and uncalled for. Besides, he could just text them Chloe’s address. Maybe that will be enough to placate them. Basile especially. The guy was obviously excited. His comments—as disgusting as they were—before they separated got the message across.

The only problem now was Mika.

The _Sans Jour_ may not have been exclusively a gay bar, but it was open for anyone. (Lucas didn’t miss how the __anyone__ part included non-humans as well.) Lucas also knew that Mika didn’t stick to one club/bar or just gay ones for that matter. He was worried he would end up bumping into his older flat mate there. He can’t say he’ll be hanging out with the boys because Mika was following them on Instagram. He’ll immediately notice Lucas missing in their posts and with the promise he made last Monday, Mika surely won’t appreciate being lied to.

The only way to avoid that was to leave before Mika even arrived. He already knew Mika would be working late when he asked to borrow some money, because surprise, surprise his papa forgot he existed and that he had responsibilities to his underage kid. The man could at least give him a heads up. Six months and counting, he still didn’t and Lucas had learned to budget his food to compensate for it. He didn’t really mind that part. It was the rent that really had Lucas worrying. He didn’t want to burden Mika with that. The man already helped him enough.

Which was also why he didn’t want him finding out about this escapade.

Lucas was going out on his own here. The last time Mika had found him alone anywhere near a club, he was sitting on the sidewalk so drunk he couldn’t even string proper sentences and having a breakdown. It wasn’t a pretty picture. He hated to admit it, but Mika’s concerns had some validity to them.

He had to be very extra careful not to bump into him tonight.

Lucas knew he couldn’t go to the club at five. It was still too early. There was something that told him he had to go there when the sky has been fully covered with the dark. The time when the evening was in full swing.  He couldn’t hang out in the flat as he was trying not to come across Mika. The man will question him exhaustively about where he was going to go, who he was going to be with and what time he would be back the moment Lucas even so much as try to step out of the apartment. And the teen knew he was going to be caught in a lie. Avoidance was the only solution.

That left him with where he was going to pass time. At least this was an easier dilemma to solve. He didn’t even need to think on it. He opted out of the messaging app and pocketed his phone. Shouldering this bag that contained his change of clothes, Lucas started on his way to Quell’s shop.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been two hours. He was done sweeping the floors and dusting the shelves. He had also cataloged the new items that came in, calmed down a particularly nervous coffee machine to give him a decent cup, fed Fynn his dinner and gave him a bath (which Lucas hadn’t expected to enjoy). It was a weird experience, but nothing terrible. Even the werewolf that came in to buy several scented candles was polite if a bit taken aback by his presence behind the counter.

(It was probably the image of him brushing Fynn’s fur that made the guy relax. If Lucas was trusted to groom Quell’s familiar, he probably came out as good to the downworlders.)

He realized if working here was like this every time, he wouldn’t mind at all. Heck, maybe he’ll apply to be an official part-timer. At least then, he’ll have money to support himself. Maybe even get himself out of debt from Mika with the rent. He should ask Quell about that in the future.

“I thought you would have left by now.” At the sound of Quell’s voice, Lucas tore his gaze away from his reflection and placed it on the woman. Her dark eyes scrutinized him from head to toe and the teen kept himself as still as a statue, his insides quaking with nervousness while he awaited her verdict.

Lucas wasn’t much for style. He dressed comfortably more than anything and his hair was the only thing he really fixed about himself—a recent development with his now longer locks. Tonight, he decided to go a different route. He dressed in a nice pair of fitting jeans, a black shirt that hugged him a little closely than he was comfortable with, and finished it off with a dark jacket he rarely wore. He wanted to blend in the background. Remain as unnoticeable as possible so he could keep an eye out.

He wasn’t sure if his choice in what to wear was passable. He hadn’t been in control of his full faculties the first time he went to a club. How he managed to even get in was a mystery even to himself. Although this time, Lucas was greatly relying on the card Quell had given him last Wednesday.

“What?” He couldn’t stand the silence. He needed to hear what Quell had to say, needed to know what had her looking at him like that.

“I’m happy you took the initiative to blend in,” she smiled. Her eyes darted to his shoes though and her lips pursed in thought. Without so much as a warning, her hand made a quick motion that Lucas barely caught. The trail of the magenta was the only sign he got that it hadn’t been a simple gesture. Lucas looked down at his feet. Instead of his usual rubber shoes, a pair of black combat boots stared back at him.

He looked up, the question written all over his face he didn’t even need to voice it. Quell shrugged her shoulders elegantly. “I figured you might as well finish the shadowhunter look you were going for.” The face-splitting grin wasn’t nearly enough to demonstrate the glee she was feeling at that moment.

Lucas affected an annoyed expression, but the reddening tips of his ears gave him away. He tested the new boots, fully expecting them to be a bit heavier compared to his shoes earlier. He just about tripped as he misjudged the amount of force he used to lift his foot. He hadn’t expected them to be that light… and comfy.

“I took the liberty of altering it,” Quell’s dark eyes followed his movements as he tested the boots. Jumping, stomping, swaying on his heels, even marching and running stationary. He ignored the snort of amusement from his newly acquired benefactor. He knew how ridiculous he looked that moment. “They feel light to you but kick someone and they’ll know just how heavy those are.”

“Thanks,” he said to her. He can see the advantage of that. He deeply hoped he wouldn’t need to resort to it. That meant he would be in some kind of trouble and Lucas whole-heartedly preferred to not get into any of that.

He raised his head from examining the boots just in time to see the impish grin Quell was giving him. Lucas instantly knew he wasn’t going to like the next words out of her mouth. “It also gives you an added inch to your height.”

_Oh she did not just—_

“I’m not short!” He protested, looking up to glare at the woman. Quell just smiled indulgently at Lucas and patted him on the head like some cute little puppy.

“Yes, yes, _mon petit chou_. You’re the average height of a sixteen-year-old French male,” she agreed in a patronizing voice. Lucas scowled further and swatted her hand away. If he had been an animal his fur would but puffed up in irritation.

It didn’t diminish Quell’s mirth. In fact, she looked even more pleased at his reaction. Lucas didn’t know if her strangeness could be attributed to her being half-human, a woman, or if it was just Quell’s quiddity. At the end of it, he simply didn’t understand.

“Any more add-ons you’d like to give?” Lucas drawled sarcastically, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket and cocking a challenging brow at the warlock.

Her eyes narrowed as she hummed. She made a show of examining his clothes, circling him to inspect every angle very with great care. Lucas bore it all. Fynn wasn’t even there to sympathize with him. The fennec fox had opted to sleep rather than watch Lucas prepare himself for his mission. He was lying around here somewhere, Lucas was sure of it.

“Nope, you’re good to go,” Quell declared.

“Awesome,” Lucas quipped. He grabbed his bag where his clothes were stuffed and shrugged it on. “I’ll be off then,” he took a step towards the door but stopped and turned around. “The card will get me through, right?” Nothing quite like last minute anxiety stopping you to complete the day!

“Yes, Lucas. It will get you through. If it didn’t I’ll be having words with the management.” A shiver ran up Lucas’ spine. The smile Quell sported  was downright sinister.

“Okay. Good.” He gulped. Lucas sometimes forgot that Quell was quite dangerous. He was lucky that he found favor in her eyes. Lucas wouldn’t even know what would’ve happened to him if that hadn’t been the case. Probably be somewhere in the bottom of the Seine, never to be found.

“Remember what I told you about that card, alright?” Lucas wasn’t proud that a few seconds had passed before he realized what Quell had meant. He still nodded though and patted his jacket where the the card was safely tucked in an inner side pocket.

“If I’m in any trouble, I rip it and you’ll come.”

Quell allowed a smile and shooed him with a flick of her wrist. “Now go have fun and catch that Shadowhunter of yours.”

“He isn’t my shadowhunter!” Lucas yelled over his shoulder as he walked towards the door of the shop.

“Well, not yet!” Quell shouted back before the front door of the shop closed and Lucas was greeted by the winter breeze of the Parisian evening.

He shook his head.

He wasn’t going to touch the little thrill that Quell’s  insinuation sparked in him. Even with a ten-foot pole. He just wasn’t.

He was there for answers. Not something— _something else_.

 

* * *

 

The blade glinted in the light as it spun and sliced the skin of the of the dummy that lay 60 meters away. Sand spilled from the tear on the material and rained down on the floor. Long fingers caught the weapon as it boomeranged back. A disappointed _tch_ echoed within the confines of the room before arms drew back and let loose the pair of chakrams into the air once again.

The figure danced as he caught and threw, again and again, performing several flips and hand-to-hand combat maneuvers as he fought an invisible enemy. By the end of it, the dummy was a decimated shadow of its former glory. The figure stood panting, training gear soaked with sweat and grasped desperately at his skin.

“I see you’re up to your usual self.” The figure stiffened before he straightened and turned to the owner of the voice that stood by the entrance of the room.

A man in his late thirties, with slicked back hair and a touch of premature grays at the sides, watched him with sharp light gray eyes. He was  dressed in the standard shadowhunter gear of flat-soled shoes, fitted trousers and jacket all made of a the special leather material crafted by the Iron Sisters. No weapons hung at his side, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have any.

“Tristan, I thought you wouldn’t be back from Idris until Saturday?”

“I was, but the meeting didn’t take as long as I had anticipated.” The head of the Paris Institute stepped into the room. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on the mutilated  training dummy. He hummed.  “I also received a fire message from Marius about your disappearances the past week,” the man continued. Light gray eyes met his own stormy-grays.  “You know we can’t have a repeat of last time Eliott.”

Eliott’s jaw tensed as he bit down harshly on the acidulous words raring to come out of his mouth. “I’ve done my duties to my utter best,” which was true. Eliott wasn’t the type to let his responsibilities as a shadowhunter slide into the back burner. He didn’t deserve to be getting heat from his little __trips__. Especially when it hadn’t even gotten in the way of his job. If there was anyone that needed a scolding or a warning, it should be Marius.

The relationship with Downworlders in Paris was tenuous at best. They had only gotten things back in order when Marcel Saint Cloud, the head of the  city’s Vampire Clan, had been replaced by one of his younger children. Carina Summers had been strict and harsh, wanting to uphold the New Accords and preventing the same thing that turned her into a vampire from happening to some unsuspecting mundane. Many of the coven had sided with her, all turned against their will, ripping them away from a life and family they had. All of them forced into this new life of immortality they never asked for.

It had only been a few years since then, and the Paris Institute was slowly bringing control and order. Not many Downworlders trusted the shadowhunters yet, and Eliott couldn’t blame them. The situation in Paris wasn’t the same as New York or any other Institute for that matter. Saint Cloud had basically held a monopoly on the Downworlders in the city and no one wanted to cross him. It equated to signing your own death sentence. And everyone was a little attached to their lives. So, what Carina did was as close to revolutionary as it could get.

And if Marius didn’t control himself, they were going to lose any semblance of respect or alliance from the Downworlders.

So yeah, of course Eliott was bitter for being singled out like this.

“For now, that may be so,” Tristan acquiesced. He sighed as he massaged his temples. Eliott noted how that single gesture, that slight touch of weariness on the man’s shoulder had aged him some years. “I just want you to be careful Eliott.” It was said more softly but it echoed loud and clear in the room.

“I am,” Eliott replied quietly. “Why can’t you just trust that I know what I’m doing?”

“The last time you said that, you nearly got a mundane child dead.” The young man flinched at the reminder.

The incident had been years ago. He couldn’t recall much of the details, everything muddy and tainted by time and trauma. He recalled the scent of blood, the sound of a scream, the tiny hand grasped in his own as he tried to pull the boy away. He had thought he was invincible. He had thought he could take on the world. He had thought he could handle the demon. He was thirteen and barely out of training. And he was filled with that burning sense of high that he could do anything.

He nearly died.

He nearly got someone killed.

It was something that loomed over him even until now. He was getting better at handling these __moods.__  But sometimes it still got the best of him. The rune did its job but there were still days when Eliott could barely get up from his bed. That even breathing felt like a chore. It would have been funny, that desire to become one with his bed, but it wasn’t. He couldn’t laugh about it when everything was too much, pointless, and gray. How was it that he was the best that the Paris Institute could offer and at the same time be a liability to his own comrades and himself?

“Don’t you think I know that?” he said, voice tight as he tried not to reveal how much those words had hurt him. He sucked in a breath and lifted his head to meet the head of the Institute— _ _no,__ his uncle’s eyes. “That’s not going to happen again. I _won’t_ let it happen.” He said it with all his conviction before placing his chakrams on the table and walking out of there.

His uncle didn’t stop him. Neither did he say another word.

Eliott didn’t care. He had patrol duty tonight.

 

* * *

 

Seeing the inside of _Sans Jour_ was like walking into a dream. Lucas wondered if he had somehow ingested a psychedelic between coming into the entrance and waiting in the line outside. The strobe lights bathed the place in technicolor and the beat so loud you could feel it hitting your skin and rattling the cage of your chest. But that wasn’t the only thing.

Lucas had never been to a place where this many downworlders were present. He saw a group of vampires in one booth, in their hands glasses of something that masked itself as Bloody Maries as its too thick consistency made it anything but. In a corner, a girl’s eyes shifted into bright orange and the light glinted on the exposed sharp canines as she flashed him a smile. There was a couple dancing with a human near the DJ’s booth, flowers tangled artfully in their hair, coruscating mismatched eyes staring deeply into the human’s dazed ones. Lucas spotted wings ranging from feathers, to leathery and to the filmy shimmering that bugs possessed. People with skin color you could pick out from the rainbow. Horns, scales, an extra appendage—Lucas’ head spun at the amount of information his senses were inputting and his brain was trying to process.

He had to stop and try to breathe. Which was quite a feat considering the air was stuffy with heat, smoke, sweat, alcohol and that odd something he couldn’t put a name to. Lucas caught himself as he stumbled, someone pushing past him to get through. He was ready to give the person a piece of his mind when he realized they had  stopped and was staring at him. It was a woman. Probably a few years older. She had long hair the exact shade of red wine. Her eyes almost black in the dim room. She was dressed in clothes that emphasized her figure and if Lucas had been anything but gay, he would have found her attractive. The alarms in his head blared when she stepped towards him. Her head tilted, her nostrils flaring slightly as she scented the air. She was so pale. Too pale to be human.  To be alive.

Lucas didn’t understand why he froze. Why he couldn’t step away from her. It reminded him of that old adage about ducks and sitting, and he never understood it until now when he feels like he was waiting to be shot.

She was about to take another step closer but she stopped. Her eyes narrowed and this time, she didn’t try to hide that she was smelling Lucas. Her face contorted  into a grimace, her teeth bared as she hissed at him.

Lucas was, by all means, confused. That is until he heard the following words, “Should have known she’d take a pet. Squall was always too fond of your kind.” Then her eyes scanned him from head to toe. A smirk practically dripping of unction marred her face.  “Makes sense she’ll want to have you.”

Whatever invisible force that held him let go the moment she turned around and left. The tension in his body bled out as he let out an explosive sigh.

He knew this night was going to be difficult. He didn’t like that he was called a pet. But if it got downworlders with ulterior motives to back off? Lucas wasn’t going to complain. That woman looked like she was a second away from devouring him—and he meant that in the most unpleasant way. The suck-you-dry-leave-you-for-dead kind of way.

Lucas looked up to the upper level where the VIP booths lay. He ran a finger on the edge of the card in his pocket. He didn’t need to go into the VIP section just to get a good vantage point. Still, he wondered. In the end, he shook his head and made his way towards the stairs.

He had a shadowhunter to find. _This certainly is going to be night I wouldn’t forget._

__

__***_ _

__

Lucas regretted those words soon enough.

He had spent nearly three hours in the club, declining advances from mundanes and downworlders alike. He had been leaning over the railing and surveying the mass of bodies below the whole night. Somewhere around the thirty-minute mark, his phone had vibrated with multiple messages. Lucas reluctantly took away his attention from the crowd and opened them. It was several messages from Chloe and Yann. He didn’t even read them. He just forwarded the last message from Chloe, which happened to be her address, to Yann. Then silenced his phone before pocketing it and going back to what he had been doing. He hoped to catch a glimpse of that signature messy brown mop that rebelled against gravity. But—nothing. Three hours and nothing. When he gets groped for the umpteenth time, he finally gave up and called it a night.

The evening air slapped him harshly on the face and he shivered violently at the sudden change in temperature. He walked away from the door that served as both exit and entrance. He wasn’t going to let himself be shoved by drunk people. He already had enough contact inside the damned club. He wasn’t keen on repeating it.

The teen stopped at the mouth of an alley far from anyone to be a bother. It was already late and this area wasn’t as densely populated. He swung his bag to the front and pulled out the gray scarf he had forgotten to return to Yann earlier. He wrapped it carefully around his neck, tugging it further up to hide half his face from the cold biting wind.

He was about to go on his way when he hears it. There was a crash and a metal trash bin tumbled to the ground. Lucas, the stupidly brave boy that he was, stepped into the alley and peered at the darkness. “Hello?” he asked. He didn’t get an answer. Quite expected seeing as he couldn’t see anyone there. He took another step further, “Is anyone there?”

He heard a __click-click-clack,__ as if something sharp was scraping on the pavement. It was coming from behind him. There was something strange in the air. Something dangerous. He felt the hair on his neck raise. A voice, the sensible, cautious one, screamed at him to run.

Human curiosity was a strong thing though. It was like what Yann talked about when he was on one of his drunken Marxist rants, how humans were compelled to do things because the capitalist society had control over them or something and induced a state of false consciousness. Lucas needed to look. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he didn’t want to. It wasn’t in his best interest. But he __needed__ to see what was making that sound. It didn’t matter that it was against his wishes or his own benefit. He _had_ to.

So look he did.

There was creature. It was a grotesque mix of a centipede and an alligator with its stubby feet and scaled body. A cluster of eyes lay a top the center of its head. Sharp serrated teeth poked from its open mouth. A long black tongue lolled on the side. It dripped thick, green saliva on the ground.

Lucas didn’t need much persuasion.

He ran.

 _This was not part of the plan _,__ he told himself. He weaved through the darkened streets, light flickering as he passed. He wasn’t sure where he was even going. He just had to get away.

He took a turn in the next corner, lungs burning from this sudden onslaught of physical exertion. He really should start taking PE seriously. He almost laughed at the thought of _fucking exercise saving his life _.__  He could hear claws scraping on the pavement, the scuttle of legs and the inhuman snarl of that— _that thing._

It was getting close. The stubby legs it possessed didn’t even hinder it. How was that even fair? _Dammit_ the universe really  hated Lucas no.1.

He skidded to a stop, almost colliding against the wall. He cursed realizing he had raced into a dead-end. He was gasping from his sprint. Fortissimo marked the very music sheet of his heartbeat, crescendoing into deafening thuds. His head whipped around as he looked for any escape routes. But none.

He was trapped here.

In a few seconds, _it_  was going to be here. His shaking hand reached into his pocket, clutching the card. He turned around and faced the monster.

He just wanted to find 24. Just wanted answers form the shadowhunter. Except, this was what he got.

_This was seriously not part of the plan._

Before he could even pull the card out and rip it, something collided against his side and Lucas hit the ground, his head cracking against the hard surface.

_The stars are awfully pretty tonight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things have been hectic the past week, even until now, and I couldn't write. Season 3 ended and I'm still processing. We also have IMANE'S SEASON. And I'm still giddy about it. But fuck am I swamped with research and my thesis. :'''(((
> 
> I was a little unsure of this chapter with the transitioning between scenes. I'm also pretty nervous in portraying Eliott's bipolar disorder, so I really need help on that front.
> 
> You're comments, suggestions and constructive criticism are much appreciated. Thank you for your support mecs. You're all the real MVP.
> 
> I do hope you enjoyed this and that little treat of Eliott. ;3c
> 
> Love you mecs~~


	10. Chapter 10

“Eliott!”

He stopped by the steps of the Institute. He stifled the urge to roll his eyes and looked back to see Lucille coming through the doors. To anyone else, she would come off as a woman who had a penchant for dressing in all black. Eliott knew better though. He could easily pick out the weapons she hid underneath. Knives, throwing stars, a seraph blade, but her preferred weapon was concealed through a bracelet—a garrote fashioned from adamas.

“Do you think you should be out on patrol already?” the question took him out of his observation. Her hand wrapped around his upper arm. A light pressure that had his skin prickling. He could understand her concern, and on any day he knew how to appreciate it. On any other day, Eliott knew how to bite his tongue. Unfortunately, the encounter with his uncle was too fresh and Lucille questioning him like this rubbed him the wrong way.

“I’m not a child Lucille,” he replied tartly, shrugging off her hold, “you don’t need to hover over me like you’re my mother.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just—”

“What? Worried I’ll do something stupid and get someone killed? Expose the shadow world to some mundane?” He watched as Lucille shrunk away from him, his words wrapped in barbed wire. A part of him snorted and whispered derisively how he was ready to do the latter for a certain blue-eyed boy. Memory charm be damned. The larger ignored it in favor of glaring at the woman in front of him. “I may have _issues_ ,” he continued spitting the word, “but I’m not an idiot.”

He left without saying anything else. Running into the night, his figure swallowed by the shadows.

 

* * *

 

 

He found himself sitting outside a familiar window. He didn’t even realize this was where his feet were leading him. Not until he stood in front of the building, eyes planning out his route to reach that particular window.

_Lucas should be home by now._

He felt the smile creeping up on his face just being able to say his name. Even if it was only in the privacy of his own mind. He knew the boy’s schedule by heart now. Eliott was anything if not tenacious in his self-assigned mission.

A week shouldn’t have been enough to establish Lucas’ schedule, but the teen seemed to be a creature of habit. He hangs out with the same group of boys and is comfortable with a specific group of girls to laugh and joke around. (Eliott had been delighted to see him smile for once. To see that little bit of weight shrugged off from his shoulders. His eyes a smidgeon bluer, brighter.) His classes start around 8 and end somewhere between 4 and 5, depending on the day but he never leaves without seeing his friends first. Wednesdays are an exception, as they were half days. He goes straight home. Avoids being caught out in the evening alone. He doesn’t eat much; if he does, he eats like it’s his last meal. He’s good at hiding it. In fact, Eliott was bewildered how someone like Lucas—with those big blue eyes and that beautiful face, whose smile unconsciously tugs at your own lips and heart, who’s blunt and brave—could easily fade into the background. Lucas was bright like his name. And it nearly had Eliott pulling his hair out why he would just dim his light like that.

(But he _does_. Eliott understood more than he was willing to admit to himself.)

Eliott scaled the building quickly and sat on the short ledge on the window. The curtains were drawn as always. The window unlocked and unclosed. Eliott could easily slide it open, widen the gap and slip through. The young shadowhunter frowned. He was going to have to remind Lucas of the dangers of leaving his window open like that. It was inviting trouble! If Eliott could get in, how much more would others from the Shadow World?

Eliott tried not to think about Lucas leaving the window open for _him._ How Lucas felt safe enough around him to leave his damned window unlocked.

It was a task that ended in vain. Eliott still tried.

Keeping silent, the young shadowhunter peered into the room. It was dark. The lights off. He activated the rune that enabled his vision to see in the dark but there wasn’t a lump curled under the comforter. His brows furrowed. It was too early for Lucas to be in bed. But it was late for him to still be outside. Maybe he went out with his friends?

He hadn’t been around the past few days. He wouldn’t have known if the boy had plans.  He could track him if he really wanted to. It was easy enough to do so. He still had the shirt Lucas wore the night they met. Even without the blood, he’d still be able to track him.

Eliott knew he should quit while he was ahead. He was standing on thin ice as it is; he couldn’t afford to get into any more trouble.

But something didn’t feel right.

Eliott didn’t know _what_ exactly, but there was something buzzing in the air like a wire pulled tautly and waiting to snap.

Or maybe it was just him.

He was readying himself to jump into the other building when he heard it. A voice, male, and one he associated with Lucas’ roommate. A guy who’s name started with an _M_ and ended with something.

A knock, then a tentative, “Lucas?”

When no answer came, Eliott heard the door click and it slowly swung open. “Lucas, are you asleep?” The guy sounded uncertain. Eliott didn’t blame him. Even Lucas would find it too early to pretend to be asleep. It wasn’t too far a stretch for the teen’s roommates to be aware of his nightly habits. They must have broached the topic to him somehow. Then again, Eliott did notice that Lucas wasn’t particularly close to any of his roommates. They got along fine. Eliott could just see that wall blocking Lucas off. A wall Lucas himself put up.

He watched as the guy poked his head into Lucas’ room and upon seeing the empty—if a bit messy—bed, the man frowned and let the door open fully. Light spilled into the room and it didn’t change the fact that Lucas wasn’t there. It only made it clearer.

“Lisa? Did Lucas come home yet?” the guy called out to someone inside their flat. His eyes roaming the room, picking out possible clues to his younger flatmate’s whereabouts.

“How would I know? I was asleep,” was the grumbled reply. “Can’t you see if his bag is there?”

A few beats passed. “It isn’t.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” the guy muttered under his breath. He sounded exasperated and worried and Eliott knew there was a story behind that. “I’m going out. Text me if he comes home.” A grunt was the only reply he received.

The door shut with a click.

The pit in Eliott’s stomach dug deeper. He needed to find Lucas. Something about this screamed trouble.

Tonight seemed to be a night where things didn’t go as expected.

 

* * *

 

 

He had looked everywhere. Any place Lucas could possibly be. He went to his school. The park where he saw Lucas and his friends hang out. He even went to the bus stop where he first interacted with him. It was just by coincidence that he had caught sight of the boy’s friends walking towards a direction away from Lucas’ apartment. He felt hope swell up in him and felt it deflate. There was no trace of messy brown hair and soul-sucking blue eyes with them.

“—not answering his phone—”

“Probably not in the mood—”

“—looked preoccupied the whole afternoon.”

“—think he’s alright?”

“Dunno.”

Eliott didn’t catch the whole conversation. He wanted to follow them, hear the whole story but his sensor began to beep, alerting him of demon activity nearby. He gave the group of boys another glance. The sensor began to beep more incessantly. With a frustrated breath, he turned around and dug the sensor out of his pockets. He just hoped it’s not some mundane trying to summon a demon for a deal.

 

* * *

 

 

On second thought, maybe a mundane summoning a demon was better than this.

Eliott flicked his wrist, black ichor splattering on the concrete as he tried to clean the blades of his chakrams. It wasn’t very successful seeing as demon ichor had the horrible habit of clinging to _anything_. He watched the demon carcass twitch before it sunk and faded into the ground, returning into the dimension it crawled out from. He grimaced. The scent of brimstone lingered sharp and foul in the air.

The sensor had grown quiet, no demon energy to pick up. That didn’t mean Eliott was done. Ravener demons hunted in packs, and one meant more of them. Seeing as the demon sensor had stopped, Eliott could only assume that this one ravener had either diverged from its group and was following another lead or Eliott had just caught the tail of the pack. He had to assume its pack was outside the radius of his sensor.

With another flick of his wrist, the blades of his weapon retracted making them look like harmless little hoops. He hooked them into his weapon’s belt and scanned the surroundings.  The street was familiar to him at least. His enhanced hearing could pick up the sounds of music coming from the clubs a few streets down. There was only one club he knew of that was in this particular area. A club that was the familiar haunt of all inhabitants of the Shadow world. It was even considered neutral ground through some unspoken agreement.

It was also a place frequented by the would-have High Warlock of Paris if she hadn’t declined and recommended Rouge instead. (If Eliott had heard through the grapevine correctly, she had practically _begged_ Rouge to take it.) He hadn’t met Quellen Squall yet. Stories about her varied but it didn’t take a genius to know that she just didn’t want to be bothered by such a title. Her file in the Institute said she recently returned to Paris after living overseas. No one knew where exactly, but she had the tendency of going off the grid for some time. No one could also tell what made her come back. And no one seemed interested in uncovering it.

He began to walk in the direction of the club. He briefly entertained the thought of going inside. Just imagining the flashing lights, the blaring music, and the crowd all packed in one space made his skin crawl and his breath momentarily seize. By some divine intervention, his sensor let out a faint beep.

Not a second later and he was standing in the mouth of an alley. Under the smell of garbage, piss, and smoke, he picked up the barely there scent of a ravener demon. His heightened eyesight was able to see the long scrapes on the pavement only a ravener’s claws could create. The beeping was becoming a steady rhythm now. His heart matching the pace it was setting.

Well, he definitely wasn’t wrong about catching the tail of the pack. The pit in his stomach expanded and the dread rushed in like a tidal wave. His feet were moving, breaking out into a run before he even thought of the action. He was on autopilot as he followed the sensor. The shrill beeping growing louder and faster as he came closer and closer. It usually irritated him but right this moment it was more ominous than anything.

He had taken to higher ground. A better vantage point was more helpful than anything. He had stopped at a ledge and looked down. He could hear the sound of traffic, the panicky beeping of his demon sensor and his heart thundering away in his chest. His eyes scanned the sight below, trying to catch any sign of a pack of ravener dem— _THERE!_

He dashed through the rooftops, following the scaled creature as it chased down its quarry. Eliott’s hearing honed in on the panted breaths of another individual. He moved faster and from his position he saw what the demons had been chasing.

Eliott felt icy claws sink into his chest and spread through his system. He _recognized_ that figure. He can never mistake that for anyone else.

Time began to slow down around him.

He watched as Lucas stopped at a dead end, frantically looking for a way out that simply wasn’t there. The boy was too focused on the ravener behind him to even see the one creeping on his side. He was running, pushing his legs to move faster. But he won’t make it. Even when his arm drew back and threw one of his chakrams, the ravener had been faster, _closer_. His weapon embedded itself on the wall, completely missing its target.

Eliott didn’t even hear himself scream.

He was falling. His hands clutched the throwing knives before letting it rain on the two raveners. He wasn't going to let them touch the prone form. His mind slipped into a blank calmness and allowed himself to sink into the training that's been drilled into him as a child.

It still rang in his ears though. Focusing on the way Lucas’ head hit the hard, cold stone, his heightened hearing amplifying it into a sickening crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for the late update. The weeks have been trying and I haven't even caught up to what's going on in Season 4 lately T A T (The IG content from these two tear me up tbh :'3 I'm happy for them)
> 
> Also, I'm sorry if I haven't replied to any of the comments. I appreciate every one of them and am thankful for your words and advice. <3333
> 
> Have a great day mecs and take care!! Hope you enjoyed the chapter~~


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I come bearing an update~~~
> 
> Classes have been officially over but I still have several requirements to pass orz
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter :3c

The sound of metals clashing was the first thing that Lucas registered when his mind slowly sifted out of the debris of unconsciousness. His head throbbed, the slightest movement inspiring his stomach to puke his guts out right beside him.

What the fuck was he doing lying on the ground? Why did his head hurt? How the hell did he get here? Where was _here_?

His vision was blurry and everything seemed to be layered with a thick fog. The experience reminded him of that night after Emma's party. Lying on the ground, having no idea how he got here, his body hurting and the world muddled all around him.

An inhumane snarl and a roar of pain interrupted his thoughts. Lucas flinched at the sound, realizing how close it was. Too close in fact. Even if he managed to move from his current position, Lucas wouldn’t even have enough time to get to safety before whatever made that sound caught up to him. He still wasn’t going to just lie here and get himself eaten. Lucas had some dignity. If he was going to be eaten by a goddamn monster, he wasn’t going to make it easy for the fucker.

He pushed himself up—or tried to anyway—and the world blacked out for a second. It was a miracle that Lucas didn’t expel what little of the food he ate. _Too early,_ he thought and his insides roiled before he upchucked what used to be a slice of pizza and the coffee he drank earlier. _Shit,_ he wiped away the gathering tears in his eyes and coughed, _I'm never gonna be able to look at a slice of pizza the same way again._ Lucas winced at the pain in his throat and spat out the pooling spit in his mouth. He breathed as much as his lungs allowed him to. Fuck, he hoped he didn't bruise them. Lucas didn't need _that_ added to his problems.

Thankfully, the pain in his chest was tolerable. He still felt a little dizzy but the world wasn’t spinning out of its axis anymore. He readied himself to stand and run when something stopped him.

“ _Don’t move!_ ”

Or someone.

He would have laughed if he could see himself right now. He imagined he looked like one of those meerkats in that documentary he watched (Basile recommended it, although he had no idea why), head whipping around at the sound of _that_ voice. It wasn't a good decision as the sudden movement had the world spinning again. Nausea threatened to have him spilling bile but he appeased it with a few deep breaths. With his stomach calmed, Lucas chanced another look.

_Well, color me fucked._ Lucas watched captivated. Quell had said shadowhunters fought demons for a living. He had known from the very moment when 24 had his glowing sword leveled to his neck that the guy was dangerous. It was more of an awareness. Like something you've overheard and accepted but never truly understood. And as Lucas witnessed 24 dancing around the demons, slicing at them, and parrying their attacks—it finally sunk into him.

_He’s dangerous._

What surprised him though was his reaction to this thought. He was scared, _yes_ , but it didn’t seem to matter. Lucas didn’t think he would stay away. It didn’t feel like he would. In fact, even if it had sunk in just how dangerous 24 was before, Lucas would have still searched for him.  Maybe it was because he was used to living on the side of danger? Always toeing that line that separated the deficiency of self-preservation and the absolute absence of one. Or maybe he was really that desperate for answers. The desire born from a relatively answerless world. He didn't know why he had this ability. He didn't understand why his parents split up or why his dad wouldn't give two shits about him or his mom. He didn't get why the fear of being yourself had to be this crippling. Then 24, this shadownhunter bulldozed into his life and for once, he felt like a question could be answered.

So, like last time, he was going to be reckless. Lucas tried his best not to be. He could count the times he slipped in one hand. Memorable instances seeing as they always did blow up on his face.

He wondered how this was going to turn out. The blow-up was inevitable. His attraction towards the shadownhunter excluded. How much damage control was he going to do? Would he even survive to be able to do any? He hoped he would.

Something shifted in the shadows behind the demon hunter. His attention fully taken by the remaining bug-like alligator demon, avoiding the deadly stinger rapidly becoming fiercer and erratic in its attacks. Lucas waited to see if the shadowhunter was aware of the new threat. But each second told the teen he wasn’t.

Lucas discarded the command 24 had shouted to him. With an unexpected surge of strength, Lucas slipped his backpack and hurled it towards the shadowhunter yelling, “ _DUCK!_ ”

Lucas was glad the shadowhunter didn’t hesitate and ducked before he got clipped by Lucas’ flying backpack. He barely kept the look of grief off his face knowing he'll never be able to use that backpack again. Not because it was shredded to pieces, no. It was more about the smell that would no doubt be clinging to it as he watched it hit the demon right in the mouth. It was a small sacrifice, he thought. Better his backpack than 24's head, even with that disastrous mop of hair.

_Like you wouldn’t want to run your fingers through that,_ a tiny voice whispered, snickering.

He couldn’t even hush that little traitor when the burst of second wind he had felt quickly deflated and he was dropping on his ass, trying to keep the world from going sideways for too long. Whatever distraction Lucas afforded the shadowhunter seemed to have worked because the next thing he knew a pair of leather-gloved hands were cupping his face.

“ _Putain,_ Lucas, are you alright? What else hurts?” He blinked staring into storm-grey eyes flicking all over his face. Hands gingerly tried to feel for any possible bumps on his head and Lucas just really couldn’t do anything but keep himself breathing. “Lucas, can you hear me?”

“Uhhhh,” he responded intelligently. Lucas could practically feel the worry coming off the guy in waves. He wanted to reassure him he was fine, but his head still throbbed and he figured 24 could tell he would be lying to him anyway. Lucas was running out of words. He mused if he might really be concussed as he had begged not to be earlier. The way his heart was beating against his rib cage or the way he can’t seem to breathe around the shadowhunter told him it probably wasn’t the case. Especially when he could feel his neck prickling with heat under those eyes.

He couldn’t last under that attention and Lucas averted his gaze. He tried to look somewhere else. He let out a shocked sound and his hand reached out to a tear on the male’s shirt. “Y-You’re hurt,” Lucas said shakily. With the lack of decent light and the dark material of his clothes, it was easy to hide that he was bleeding.

The shadowhunter looked down to where Lucas’ hand was gently placed. He could feel the warm blood that was beginning to saturate the material there; his fingers were slowly seeping with the color red. Lucas can feel the careful control he held on his breath beginning to slip. His heart racing into an erratic pace that had nothing to do with their proximity. His body trembling not because of the freezing air. “Oh, I didn’t notice,” 24 said and he shifted slightly, hissing as it aggravated the wound. “Fuck. Okay, not a simple scratch then.”

Lucas lifted his head to give the guy an incredulous look. “You’re bleeding, like a _lot_. How can you think that’s just a scratch?” his voice was rising with a panicky edge. Lucas had never had any problems with the sight of blood. Except, seeing this amount was making him nervous. There was something lurking just beneath the surface of his unconscious, something he could pluck out and examine and things would begin to make sense. It didn’t seem important at the moment. Not when he had someone bleeding right in front of him.

“Used to injuries. And we’re built—“ he winced, his hold—now on Lucas’ shoulders—tightened as he gritted his teeth and steadied his breathing, “—differently than mundanes.” He looked paler and he was shaking now. “Nothing an _iratze_ can’t heal.”

“Drop the tough guy act,” Lucas muttered and gently pushed the shadowhunter to sit. He knew it was bad when the guy easily tipped over. “How can I help?” Compared to him, Lucas was fine. His head still hurt but it was something he can ignore for now.

24 opened his mouth but Lucas glared at him, the male quailing under that look. “Don’t even think of saying you’re fine. Now tell me what the fuck I need to do.”

He sighed. “Can you check my pockets for my stele?” Lucas had no idea what a _stele_ was but looking through pockets should be easy enough to find it.

“Okay, now put some pressure on that,” he ordered him and 24 followed obediently. Lucas’ hand sifted through the male’s pockets. He couldn’t help but feel awkward about this. This was the second time he had been this close to 24. Two situations so vastly different but still managed to produce similar emotions. Lucas guessed that if the shadowhunter hadn’t been injured or if he hadn’t been battling demons earlier, Lucas would probably have had a heart attack with how fast his heart would be beating.

He imagined meeting him in the _Sans Jour_ as he had hoped earlier. Lucas would be leaning over the railing, scanning the crowd below and he would find him, right there in the middle. 24, feeling his eyes on him, would then look up and their eyes would meet. He'd sport that little knowing smirk that sparked something inside of Lucas. His head will tip to the side, a little challenge, a little demand, for him to come down. Lucas would raise his brow and push away from the railing and make his way downstairs, taking his time even when all he wanted was to dash to where 24 was waiting for him, afraid that he would lose him again. Then like the sneaky fucker he was, 24 would snag him from the side before Lucas could walk to the dance floor where he supposedly was, scaring the living shit out of Lucas.

But things turned out differently.

24 didn't show up at the club. Lucas got chased by a fucking demon and nearly mauled to death. Then, even if Lucas had no idea how, 24 managed to save him and got himself injured in the process. The guy had said not to look for him, but Lucas, stubborn and impulsive as he was, did the exact opposite. And here they were.

There’s that undercurrent of thrill and nervousness from being this close to 24, but it was overpowered by the guilt and worry thrumming in his bones that this possibly wouldn’t have happened if he had listened to the guy in the first place.

Lucas’ hand wrapped around something hard with uneven smooth spots and pulled it out. It was a stone, he couldn’t tell what color it was with the lack of light. Really, where was a light when you needed it? He startled and nearly dropped the item when it began to glow this pure white light. “This doesn’t happen to be that stele thing you were saying, right?” He looked up to the shadowhunter’s eyes but the guy wasn’t looking at him. Instead, 24’s eyes were transfixed on the glowing stone Lucas was holding. “Is this the first time this thing glowed?” Lucas asked, eyeing the stone with uncertainty.

24 shook his head, still looking at it. He lifted his eyes to stare into Lucas’. An unreadable expression flitted in his eyes but it was too quick for Lucas to even pick apart. “It isn’t. And that isn’t the stele. Try my other pocket. ”

A question was at the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it and checked the other pocket. His fingers bumped against something and he quickly wrapped them around the item and pulled it out.  It's a wand or something close to it anyway. It was smooth, save for the symbols decorating it. It was silver-white and translucent, smooth to the touch like a mirror.

“Okay, that’s the one,” the shadowhunter said. He tugged at his shirt and lifted it exposing more of his skin. Lucas stared at the newly bared skin, swallowing the dryness in his throat. Black tattoo-like marks decorated the pale expanse and he could see scars from various injuries. “I need you to trace this mark,” he said, hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand holding the stele and leading it to a particular mark that rested just above his right hip.

Lucas leaned forward to take a better look. The mark reminded him a bit of the G clef or a funky looking h with a number six wrapped around it. He began to trace this _iratze_ thing and he nearly gagged when it dawned on him that he was _burning him._

Lucas dropped the stele as if he was the one that had been burnt. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” he screamed. “I can’t— You’re making me burn you!”

“Lucas, relax. It’s fine.” He reassured him but Lucas wasn’t having any of it.

“Fine?! How can this be fine when I’m carving you like a melon! We’ve only met two times, I don’t even know your name! You’re asking too much.” It didn’t even matter that he had been the one to offer his help. That he had been determined to do so. He just didn’t expect that he had to trace the fucking mark by _burning_ it. “I can’t— how can you even—”

“LUCAS!” Lucas’ panicked rambling was cut off when a hand cupped his face. “Lucas, I need you to breathe.” He hadn’t even picked up on the fact that he was beginning to hyperventilate. “And I need you to listen _very_ _carefully_.”

The teen took a shuddering breath as storm-grey eyes held his gaze. “If you don’t trace the _iratze_ on my hip, I am going to bleed out. There may also be demon poison in my veins. It’s not that potent, but I need the _iratze_ to heal as much as it can. I know you’re not okay with this. But I need it. Will you please trace it?”

Lucas gulped and his hands clenched tightly. He could read the _I’ll die_ right under those words. And Lucas really did rather want him not to die. “O-Okay,” he choked the word out and blinked through the tears pooling in his blue eyes. "Okay." He picked up the stele again and leaned forward to try tracing the _iratze_ a second time.

“Eliott,” he heard him say softly as he made the first stroke.

“What?” Lucas looked up and met those eyes again.

“ _Moi c’est Eliott._ ” It was weird how he said it. Like he was offering it just to Lucas, and only Lucas. There was a niggling thought that told the boy he wasn’t just being offered Eliott’s name. That in reality, the other male was giving him more than that.

Lucas only nodded. He really couldn’t formulate a response to that. Didn’t know how to. He just returned to tracing the _iratze_ mark.

He did it as quickly as he could. He wasn’t the greatest artist, but he managed to trace the faded lines— _scars_ his mind grits out—and he watched as it glowed. He glanced at Eliott to check if it was working. He held his breath and slowly the vice grip around his heart eased as Eliott's face relaxed. The wound took its time to heal, but it closed until all that was left was a pink gash. It was amazing really and Lucas can’t quite believe that had just happened.

“One more favor,” Eliott said after some time. He still looked a little worse for wear but definitely better than earlier. “Can you write a message for me?” Lucas didn’t understand why but thought he might as well. It wasn’t the strangest request he received, considering he just _burnt_ a mark on the guy. He sifted through his pockets coming up with a crumpled receipt and the card from Quell. _Fuck, she’s going to wring my neck when she finds out._ He quickly pocketed the card. He’ll deal with that later; for now, he faced Eliott.

“I… I don’t—“ Eliott produced a pen out of nowhere and handed it to Lucas with a smile, “—have a pen. Whatever.” His wrote the short message Eliott relayed to him. Lucas couldn’t help how his brows rose when the shadowhunter told him to write the name of the addressee.

“What now?” he asked after he finished writing the last word.

Eliott took the piece of paper and his stele from Lucas. He traced something at the very bottom and Lucas watched transfixed as Eliott let go of the paper and it floated as it burnt, the sparks resembling fireflies meeting the sky.

Eliott pushed himself up from the ground and promptly offered his hand to Lucas. The teen accepted, his blue eyes lingering on their hands coated in Eliott's blood.  His hand squeezed Lucas’ and storm-grey eyes inquire gently if he was alright. Lucas could have just nodded, said _ouais_ like usual _,_ but his own hand squeezed back.

It seemed to be the correct response because Eliott gave him a bright smile. And Lucas just stared, feeling a swoop in his stomach. He didn’t know how Eliott could convey that much brightness when he looked exhausted. He didn’t want to feel it, but the heart was an involuntary muscle; if it wanted to flutter like that, it was going to do what it damn well pleased.

Eliott still hasn’t let go of his hand. He knew he had to get him to release his hand, but his voice won’t work nor was his hand inclined to leave where it currently was. He let the guy lead him. Lucas watched him duck a bit and grab something, before lifting it towards the blue-eyed teen.

“Sorry, about your backpack,” Eliott said sheepishly.

“I’m going to have to burn it, aren’t I?” Lucas grimaced, taking hold of a strap that wasn’t coated in demon saliva. The smell was enough to make him want to puke his guts out, but he refrained. He wasn’t incredibly fond of the idea of him throwing up in front of Eliott.

"We can ask Warlock Quell if she could do something about it." Lucas snorted and Eliott shot him a curious look.

“She’s not going to be pleased to see us,” he muttered under his breath. _Especially when she finds out I didn’t follow her instructions._

Lucas waited for Eliott to ask the question he could see swimming in those eyes. He didn’t and Lucas wasn’t going to push him.

“Come on, her shop isn’t too far from here if we take a shortcut.”

“Shortcut? What sh—” he yelped as he was pulled and lifted, his arms immediately going around Eliott’s neck. He pressed his face into the shadowhunter’s chest at the rush of wind when the taller male bounded up the sides of the building.

Lucas would forever deny it, but several posts that night across several social media platforms recounted the strange sound of a young male voice screaming “PUTAIN!” over the rooftops of Paris.


	12. Chapter 12

“Lucas?”

His fingers tightened its grasp on Eliott’s hood. Lucas buried his face further into the shadowhunter’s chest, trying to breathe. He took in the smell of sweat, blood, a bit of that demon ick, vomit and forced his heart into a reasonable pace.

“Lucas, we’re here,” Eliott said and although Lucas was reluctant to let go, fearing that the lack of rushing wind was just his imagination and the shadowhunter had been lying about being _here_ , he still did. A blue eye peeked out to glare balefully at the teen who was looking down at him.

“You’re an absolute prick, you know that?” Lucas grumbled. The shadowhunter’s stare didn’t stray from his face. Heat began to creep up his neck and settled on his cheeks. A sudden awkwardness took over him. “You—” he cleared his throat and patted the shadowhunter’s shoulder, “You can put me down now.”

“Huh?” Eliott blinked away the glazed look in his eyes, “Oh! Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that.” Lucas watched him worriedly as he sets him down on the ground. From where his hand brushed the guy’s neck, Eliott’s skin felt clammy. Lucas also noticed how he was more panting than breathing, his efforts to hide it inefficient. “Let’s go, in.”

Lucas followed Eliott as he led the way. He placed himself behind the taller male, ready to catch him if he ever faltered in his step. He didn’t even bother with the likely possibility that he might not even be able to hold the guy’s weight. The bell tinkled as they went inside the shop and they were greeted by the mixed scents of herbs, old books, and Quell’s potion brewing that wafts down from her lab upstairs into the shop.

He had barely stepped into the room when a sudden gust of wind rushed past him and Lucas lifted his arms to shield his eyes. Something crashed and a pained groan echoing in the shop. The teen dropped his arms and his eyes widened into saucers.

Eliott was pinned to the wall. Wisps of magenta wrapped around the shadowhunter’s neck, dangling him a few inches from the floor. His hands battled hopelessly with the magic as it began to inch closer around his neck. He wasn’t even thrashing. The run here had pretty much sucked out most of his strength.

“Where is he?” Quell’s voice rang in the room, coming everywhere and nowhere. Lucas had never heard her like this before. Power coated her very voice. The room visibly trembled from being subjected to it. Even Lucas felt his legs shake, his knees buckling underneath him. Lucas had been intimately acquainted with fear all his life, and this was one moment in all his existence where he felt his own blood freeze.

“I’m here.” He croaked and Quell’s eyes focused on him. The harsh look on her face melted and Eliott gasped as the hold around his neck loosened a bit. She scanned Lucas for any obvious injuries and when they land on his bloodied hands, she returned her attention on Eliott.

“You better pray to your Angel that Lucas isn’t hurt, because if I find out you had anything to do with it directly, even your precious Clave won’t save you.” Her magic released him and dropped him unceremoniously to the floor, sagging like a bag of potatoes. She strode towards Lucas, dropping on a knee and running her hand over his body. Lucas flinched at her proximity. Quell’s hand faltered in reaching towards him. Regret and shame sparked in her dark eyes. She looked away and swallowed, steeling herself before resuming her previously aborted action. You could barely see the tremor in her hands, but Lucas had seen it with how closely he was watching the warlock.

Guilt squeezed his heart. Quell had told him about the prejudice warlocks faced. How human parents react when they first realize their children bore demon blood. How they bore that first rejection even after centuries on this earth. Quell had never seemed to be bothered, but Lucas was familiar with carefully crafted masks.

He knew he reacted instinctively. It still didn’t make it any easier that he put that look on Quell’s face when she had been nothing but kind to him. This mundane boy who had the gift of the sight.

Lucas held still as Quell’s magic tentatively reached for him. He felt the warmth of it, wrapping around him like a gentle hug, or a snuggly blanket you could just burrow into in the freezing winter. The tension holding his body seeped away slowly and the throbbing in his head subsided.

“He didn’t hurt me,” Lucas finally said as he found his voice. Quell looked at him, surprise evident for a second before it vanishes. Like she hadn’t expected him to speak to her after that display. _Protective and frightened display,_ a thought whispered to him. Made evident as his first concern was the shadowhunter, not himself. They were both injured, except Eliott had suffered more severe wounds than he had. Lucas’ own well-being was secondary to that. Especially, when he was the cause.

He also didn’t want Eliott to get in any more trouble because of his own mistake. He had to clear that up and diminish any ire Quell had for the young shadowhunter. Eliott didn’t deserve it. “But he did get hurt because of me.” Lucas gulped remembering the bleeding gash on Eliott’s abdomen, the scent of burnt flesh. “He—” His hands were shaking again and his eyes stung from the tears he desperately holds back. “He says he has demon poison in him. You have to—” he lifted his eyes, staring imploringly into Quell, “You have to help him. Please.”

Quell’s eyes roamed his face. Maybe he was such a sorry sight, looking pitiful in his rumpled clothes, hair tangled from the wind and hands stained with Eliott’s drying blood, some smudged on his face. Lucas definitely felt like it. Or Quell still felt guilty for frightening him like that. Whatever it was, Lucas was thankful when the warlock eventually let out a sigh and made a banishing gesture with her hand. With a blink, Lucas found them in one of the upper rooms. Eliott was lying flat on a table, chest rising and falling faintly. Quell stood and Lucas scrambled to his feet to follow. He almost tripped on the carpet but caught himself before he hit his head for the second time that night.

Quell stood beside the prone figure of the shadowhunter and snapped her fingers, getting rid of the teen’s shirt and jacket and leaving him half-naked. On any other circumstance, Lucas would have blushed. It was the sight of the pink flesh of the recently healed injury that stopped him. He couldn’t even get himself to think of anything else. The scent of seared flesh forever tattooed in his memories. Quell made a thoughtful noise as she ran her hand coated in magenta magic over Eliott’s body. She frowned as they stilled on certain points—the gash on his abdomen, a cut on his leg, his bruising neck, and his head. She shook her hand and muttered, “You’re not wrong about the demon poison.”

“Is it bad?” Lucas asked. Eliott was losing color and his lids were drooping. He had never been around someone this hurt before. He had no idea what to do. Does he take his hand? Hold it to comfort him? Talk to him? Keep him awake? Do you deal with demon poison the same way? Does an antidote exist? How the hell can Lucas help? Be of use? He can’t just stand there and watch Eliott slowly losing the battle for his consciousness as color leeched out of his skin.

“It would’ve been if you’ve arrived any later. What kind of demon attacked you?”

_What do you mean, what kind? There’s more than one?!_ was what he wanted to say, but Lucas already knew that. The scar on his ankle throbbed and the teen shook off the feeling. “I— He called it a rave-something. It looked like a crocodile and a scorpion’s lovechild or something. It was freaky.”

“Ravener,” Quell supplied. Her forehead creased before turning back to Eliott who lied increasingly still on the table. “Why would those things be here?” the warlock said as an afterthought. It didn’t seem like something she expected to say to Lucas.

Lucas worried at his lips. There wasn’t a single indicator in Quell that she was pleased with that information. Lucas wasn’t new to the Downworld. He had always been able to see it, always had been obvious where those particular beings hung about. But he was barely introduced to the Shadow World, a layer of society that was more than he previously thought, and he was floundering. It had only been a day at most. He’d just learned shadowhunters and demons existed. He didn’t know what raveners were, but they can’t be good if it has Quell looking like she wants to blow things up.

She refocused on the injured shadowhunter. “He’s lost some blood that we’ll have to replenish immediately after I draw out the poison,” she pushed up her sleeves and positioned her hands over a spot where black lines branched out. The skin surrounding the wound was bruising into an alarming color. Lucas can’t even believe he hadn’t noticed that.

“Sh-should I get the blood bags from the fridge?” Quell glanced at him. Lucas fidgeted in his spot. “What? Don’t give me that look. It’s not like I would have missed them when they were right next to the milk!” he said defensively.

“No, you wouldn’t. But those aren’t for mortals,” she explained. Eliott groaned as Quell’s hand moved to pull something out of him slowly.

“What? Are you keeping some weird pet? You know Finn won’t be pleased with that.” Lucas stood there in silent awe as black liquid flowed out from the wound and collected into a sphere floating above Eliott. Quell didn’t even look strained as she did it, save for the few beads of sweat that dotted her forehead. It made the scales on the side of her face glisten as the sweat rolled down on them.

“Hah! If I had another pet, Finn would just make sure he had you all to himself. Greedy little thing that he is.” Quell clicked her tongue in mock disappointment. Finn, seemingly summoned by the mention of his name, stood at the edge of the table and chittered in offense at such unveiled accusation of his greediness. “Oh don’t you even deny it. You’re my familiar and you still prefer _mon loulou’s_ company, you traitor.”

Finn made a high-pitched sound and raised his head in a pompous manner, before turning around and jumping down from the table.

For the first time that night, Lucas felt his lips twitch in amusement.

“Sure, be that way! But before you sulk, get those potions!” Finn yipped annoyed but walked out of the room to the direction of Quell’s storage. “Lulu’s gonna come with you.”

Lucas aimed a grateful look at her. He was glad that Quell understood his need to be helpful at that moment. He threw a last worried glance at Eliott, who had already lost consciousness minutes into the process, and followed after Finn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello mecs~~ sorry if I haven't been updating lately. I'm trying to get my writing juices back in order. Been weeks since I graduated and I'm in a slump. Just gonna warn you all that updates will still be indefinite, sorry about that.
> 
> But honestly, thank you for your continuous support by reading this! I hope you all have a great day and take care!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Title is from a song by Echosmith by the same name. :)


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